Literally Treasure
by Celebwen Telcontar
Summary: Ben has a twin sister who grew up separated from him. She runs into him at the Gala and is brought into the mess. Thing is, her mother also has a family treasure, only hers is a bit more outlandish. A lot more outlandish.
1. Default Chapter

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Here's a new story. **_

_**Balrog: I see. (Goes back to drinking lava slushy)

* * *

**_

With a sharp twang, Silence released the string. The arrow shot for the target, and its head buried itself in the center of the bull's-eye.

"Good!" Danielle cried to her daughter. Then, she smiled at the girl. "Come with me. Put away the archery stuff. You're good enough and dark haired, tall, and queenly enough to be the one we're waiting for."

"The one who's waiting for?"

"One of our ancestors foresaw that one of her descendants would be strong enough to get what we have been trying to get for the past… well, over a million years, I can tell you that much for sure; our home, our country. But there's also a legend, telling of a massive treasure under a mountain, guarded by a worm." Silence choked on her tongue.

"A… _worm?_ You mean a little peach colored slimy thing that lives in the dirt?"

"I guess. That's what the legend says."

"Must be something else, otherwise I don't know how anyone didn't find it before now."

"I know."

"Ha. Are there any clues to this mystery land and even more mysterious treasure? Earthworm included?"

"That I don't know about. But we do have clues. Come on, put that stuff away, and come inside. I'll get you a cup of peppermint tea."

"Thanks." Silence coiled the bowstring after unstringing the bow, placed the arrows in her quiver, and brought everything, including the old painted straw and canvas target, into the garage, where the elements wouldn't harm them. She then placed her armguard and half-glove for the string in the archery basket, and went inside to the smell of fresh peppermint tea.

Silence watched the tea steep until it was a deep brown in color, strained it, and took a tentative sip, burning her tongue. "Ow, damn!" she hissed, before her mother came downstairs with an ancient wooden crate, and a medium sized book, bound in rotting brown leather that looked as if it had once perhaps been red in color. The pages were crinkled and worn, yellowed and seemed to be almost moth-eaten in places. A frayed end of leather the same color as the covers paid testament that the book had been fitted with a leather book ribbon, but that had obviously broken.

"You can look through this, but be very careful. Very careful; it's extremely old. Somehow we managed to get the gifts, even when your father should have kept them." She removed a large bundle; a bag which she removed a bunched up scarf from, then from that came three socks, nested inside one anther, and finally a wool bag and a little piece of glass, a container of some sort. "Shut the light, Silence." The younger woman obeyed, and the glass shone like a little lantern of its own. Silence's arms dropped to her sides.

"What is it?"

"What does it look like?"

"Can't be… It can't be… It just cannot be the phial of water that Galadriel gave to Frodo!" Silence whispered. Danielle smiled. "The Lord of the Rings isn't real!"

"My daughter, Silence Dogood Gates, it is."

"I thought you were insane before. Okay, now I'm positive. Where's the light's battery pack?

"Silence! Watch your tongue!" Danielle scolded. Silence cared less about manners now than anything as she watched her mother lift an old weather-beaten piece of paper on a board out of the crate, covered in cloth and a layer of bubble wrap.

"What… Is that the… The map that Bilbo used?" She was just as skeptical about the Lord of the Rings being real now than anything.

"Yes. And the book is—"

"The Red Book of Westmarch! The _Lord of the Rings_ as written by Bilbo Baggins, Frodo Baggins, and Samwise Gamgee! You actually expect me to believe that? I believe it as much as I believe that there's some massive treasure the Founding Fathers hid. You are just as crazy as you claim my father to have been."

"Your father was crazy. Or the fact that he was a Gates proves that. All Gates' are crazy."

"You included apparently. I've had enough of this."

"Silence, how can I prove to you what I'm saying is real?"

"Show me some real evidence, not just some antique book, a battery powered light inside a funny shaped sheath, and a crate full of archaic weaponry and clothing!"

"What if I showed you this?" She lifted a box, and it showed a nut inside some grey soil. "This is from the Mallorn in the Shire that Sam Gamgee planted. The soil is all that's left of Lothlórien soil." Silence arched an eyebrow.

"And how am I supposed to believe that?"

"I… I'll plant it."

"You'll plant it. And what happens until spring, when I see that your so-called Mallorn blooms?"

"Please believe me Silence!"

"Mom, you're insane. Put away the archaic weaponry… Wait. Let me see that. I've been wanting to try out with a real sword."

"The sword of Boromir, reforged after being broken in his battle with the Uruks."

"Riiiighhhht. It's a sword."

"Len,"

"Mom… Never mind." She walked out into her fencing room, and placed one hand on the archaic sword's hilt, the other on the scabbard. She drew the sword in one swift movement, placing the sheath on the wall on a decorative rack. She then began to work through the phases of the passes and a block, realizing that though the sword was heavy and longer than she was used to in a real fencing weapon, the balance was perfect. Then, she saw the blade. A tree was etched into it, and there were seven stars over it. She nearly dropped it. The sign of the Stewards. And Boromir was the son of the Gondorian Steward. She had to put the sword down before she hurt herself or re-broke the blade. She put it in the scabbard, and, for lack of anything else to do, belt the scabbard about her waist.

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"Alright, Mom. I believe that the stuff is very old, but also that someone carved in the symbol of the Stewards into the blade. Where's Anduril?"

"Right here." Silence drew the blade halfway, and saw a device of seven stars set between the crescent moon and the rayed sun, and about them was written many runes. When held in the sun, the sword shone red, and Silence believed that the moonlight shone coldly on it.

"Hmmm. How old are these carvings, I wonder? Not nearly as old as the blade, because if its as old as you claim it is, then they wouldn't have had such delicate tools, much less steel."

"Here. Do your worst to this, it wont break no matter what you do to it," Danielle said, handing her a silver shirt small enough for a child.

"Hmm. I wonder, it looks as if it's made of silver and quartzite."

"Try it." Silence made a swift jab with a long dagger, thinking that the rings would break. The dagger clanged, and there was a crack as the dagger snapped off at the hilt.

"How… It can't be _that_ strong." She lifted her fencing sword, made of pure steel, and brought it down on the coat. It rang, and the fencing blade was dulled and mashed in the shape of the rings. The mail wasn't harmed in the least. "Well, I guess it is. That proves it. Either the sword's made of something softer than wax, or the mail is Mithril. It's got to be. There's no other explanation. I'll try out the bow and arrows next; they must have belonged to Legolas, if your theory is correct." She strung the bow quickly, went out into the garage with an arrow, and aimed. The bow was difficult to draw, but when she did let loose, the bow sent the arrow whizzing towards the target. The arrow buried itself, head shaft and feather, in the straw and the wall, which was made of super strong plywood and fiberglass under dry walling. "Good God," she whispered. "Mom," she called. "Take a look at this!"

"Holy… Even I didn't imagine Legolas' bow to be _that_ strong!"

"I… I agree with you on the hypothosys. I've seen Boromir's sword, Aragorn's sword, Merry, Pippin, or Sam's sword which I broke, and Frodo's mail shirt."

"Not to mention the phial of Galadriel and the Red Book. And the cloaks of Lothlórien."

"Right. I do not believe this is happening to me."

"It could be worse."

"Alright. Who are we?"

"The descendants of Bard the Bowman."

"The Royalty of Dale? As in Esgaroth? I believe that the Fellowship was a bunch of real people and the Lord of the Rings was real. Everything else I'm skeptical about."

"When will you believe that I speak the truth? The honest to God truth?"

"Don't blaspheme. And I'll believe it when we see Dale, I see the skeleton of Smaug the Dragon, and people start bowing to us."

"You are really skeptical, you know that?"

"Of course I am. What do you expect me to be? I work in the FBI, remember?"

"I didn't forget. It's just that you can be too skeptical sometimes."

"Of course I can. Now I'd best be going, I've got to get to that gala tonight."

"I still can't believe you got in the FBI while your last name is Gates."

"Simple. I don't believe that ridiculous treasure story you said Grandpa John used to tell Dad."

"He's a Gates."

"So am I. Is that supposed to mean something?" Silence called downstairs as she went up to begin to get ready for the gala.

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Silence saw the woman look to the doorway and follow someone. Silence decided to follow the woman to see what was the matter. As her quarry sped up, so did the blonde woman. Then, Silence recognized the man.

"Ben!" she asked the air quietly as she sped up, picking up her skirts to all but canter down the stairs. She was glad that the heels she wore had traction, or else she would be at the bottom with a broken neck in no time. "Ben, wait!" she cried. Her fleeing twin brother didn't even stop for a heartbeat. He walked casually across the street, went near a red van, and that was where the blonde woman and Silence caught up to him.

"Silence!" Ben asked in a quiet whisper as if he wasn't sure she was real.

"Give me the declaration," Blondie said sharply.

"The Declaration? Please don't say that you stole the Declaration of Independence. Please don't."

"He did," Blondie said in a crisp chirp.

"You… You did? You stole… the… _Declaration of Independence?_ And here I thought that this wasn't possible."

"Uh, Ben? We have to leave. Soon."

"I know. Ian's here."

"Crap!"

"Shit! Oh, no you don't!" Ben cried as he sprinted off after Blondie, who had stolen back the Declaration. Then, she was intercepted by a catering van, and Ben cursed even worse. "Go after it!" he cried, shoving Silence unceremoniously into the van and jumping in himself. Then, the merry chase began.

The catering truck and the red van played a game of chase as the night unfolded. Then, the truck's back doors popped open, and the blonde woman swung out, holding the door. A blonde man with a rugged face that Silence decided she liked held the Declaration. The van door slid open, and Ben grabbed Blondie.

"Damn!" Blondie cried, about to smack Ben in the face.

"I want an explanation. This had better not be about that damned treasure," Silence grumbled, narrowing her eyes at her twin.

"Yes, it is. And Dr. Chase, the Declaration is here." Ben opened a tube and shook out, very carefully, a brownish roll that looked a lot like leather sliding out slightly. Dr. Chase took a swipe at it.

"Give me that!"

"No. I'll keep it."

"Give it to me!"

"No!"

"Your apartment?" Riley called from the drivers seat.

"No! I had to swipe a card."

"You had to swipe a card! Where to, then?"

"A park at first. Then, I'll figure something else out." Riley pulled over at a park, and Ben got out and started to pace. "We need those letters. We need them badly."

"What letters?"

"Quiet please. The Silence Dogood letters."

"Wha… Never mind. Not me," Silence muttered, sitting in her seat, examining her fingernails. She couldn't believe her brother, her own brother, would steal the Declaration of Independence, and abduct a woman from the National Archives Gala, and her as well.

"You have the original Silence Dogood letters!" Dr. Chase cried.

"Will you please be quiet?" Ben said, a little more testily than before.

"How did you get them?"

"She really can't shut up, can she?"

"How did you get them?"

"I don't have them, I know who has them. Now the question is if Dad will let me use them for a few minutes. Now I will let you hold this, only hold it, if you will please shut up!" Ben snapped at her, handing her the Declaration of Independence in its red document case. Seconds later, Dr. Chase was sprinting across the lawn in her bare feet, the document clutched in her hands. "Not cool, not cool!" Ben cried, sprinting after her and wrestling her over to the van again. "Give me that. Now go, shoo!"

"Not without the Declaration."

"You're not going _with_ the Declaration."

"Then I'm going with you."

"No you're not!"

"Look, if you wanted to leave me behind, you shouldn't have told me where you were going." Riley groaned and clunked his head on the doorframe.

"Lovely. So you keep the both of us. With the Declaration of Independence, and the charge of theft of a high-security document and kidnapping of two employees of the national government marring your record. You are not going to remain free for a long time more, brother-mine," Silence said quietly. "Might as well get comfortable and acquainted. I'm Silence, this idiot's sister. I'm the sane one in the family."

"The sane one?"

"My mother believes that the Lord of the Rings is real." Dr. Chase whistled.

"That is crazy. I'm Abigail by the way."

"Hey, keeping me out of the conversation? I'm Riley."

"Nice to meet you, I'm sure. Ben, where does Dad live?"

"Don't you know?"

"My parents split up when I was about eight months old. I never knew him beyond that. Ben and I get together about once or twice a year, if that. Other than that, I fence, arch, and study Tolkien when not working."

"You study Tolkien?"

"My maternal side of the family is related to the Tolkien family through an obscure branch dealing with Priscilla M.A.R. Tolkien, and my mom, grandmother, Priscilla herself, her father, and so on believed that the Lord of the Rings was real, and that my family is descended of Dale royalty."

"Dale royalty?"

"As in Bard the Bowman who brought down Smaug the Worm."

"I see."

"Yes. I'll admit to it. I'm the sanest member of the family."

"Dad has life insurance and a job," Ben put in.

"Never mind. I'm tied with my father for family sanity. Unfortunately for Ben, he gets it from both sides."

"Have you found anything Tolkien related?" Ben asked, pulling onto an exit.

"A bunch of stuff I believed to be phony until I crushed my fencing sword on what looked to be a small shirt of silver and quartzite."

"Frodo's mail shirt," Abigail said quietly.

"And his phial of Galadriel was there, as were all the gifts given in Lothlorien, Anduril, Boromir's sword, and the Red Book of Westmarch."

"How can you be sure all of it is real?"

"I smashed my sword down onto the mail, and so it's really mithril, I'm sure of that. I couldn't find the phial's battery pack… All of it follows, save the Mallorn seed from Sam's Mallorn in the Shire, which we'll have to see if it is a Mallorn."

The hours passed, and soon they were at a small suburban house in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

The four of them went up to the door, and Ben rang the doorbell, after Riley had driven the van a few blocks away. The door opened, and a man with long graying brown hair and spectacles opened it.

"Dad, hi," Ben began. "I'd like you to meet Silence."

"Si… Silence? As in your sister!" Ben's father, and hers as well, asked.

"Yes." Her father's eyes widened.

"Silence? Is it really you? I haven't seen you since you were in diapers…" he said, holding her shoulders. She smiled.

"I'd like to get to know you." He hugged her to him, his voice cracking slightly.

"You look just like your mother…" Patrick said quietly. "Come in, please. Where's the party, Ben?"

"We're in trouble."

"She pregnant? He asked Ben, indicating Abigail with his chin.

"If she is, are you going to let your future grandchild stay out in the cold?"

"Come in, make yourselves comfortable. There's some pizza in there, I think it's still warm. Ben, this had better not be about the damn treasure."

"Dad, I need the Silence Dogood letters. And yes, it's about the treasure."

"Ben, I wasted twenty years of my life after the treasure. It's not real. The treasure is a myth."

"Dad, I found the _Charlotte_."

"The _Charlotte_? You mean she was a ship?"

"Yah. She was beautiful."

"And the treasure?"

"No, but I found another clue."

"And that led you to another one, and another one. I've found out the truth, Ben. The treasure is a myth. It was invented to keep the British occupied with searching for buried treasure and not the Continentals."

"I refuse to believe that."

"And did he drag you three in here as well?"

"He dragged Silence and I in. Literally," Abigail said.

"I volunteered," Riley put in.

"You can do what you want with your life. You're a grown person. I'm the family kook. I have a job, a home, life insurance. At least I had your mother. For however long I had her. At least I had you and now Silence. What do you have? Him?" Silence's father indicated Riley with his chin. Riley looked uncomfortable while stuffing his face with the leftover pizza.

Silence helped her father gather the dishes, to his protests. Then, he looked at her, with a warm look in his eyes.

"I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes."

"Just a few minutes?"

"I want to know my daughter."

The two of them talked for some time until her father said something about putting something in an oven, and Abigail and Ben cried out with mortification at that, so she could easily see that it was the Declaration. Then, he suggested heat, and presently she heard the sound of a blow-dryer and Abigail said that all that time, and no one knew what was on the back.

"The back of what?" her father asked. He lifted up the front, and gasped for air. "You stole the Declaration of Independence?" her father asked Ben with an air of finality and disbelief yet the complete calm of someone before they go berserk. "Go ahead and ruin your life. You're a grown person. What do I care?"

"Dad, we need the letters."

"I don't have them anymore. I donated them to the Franklin Institute."

"Aright, Riley we need to go. Get the duct tape."

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Five minutes later, Silence and her father were taped to chairs, side by side. When Patric told Ben that the letters had been donated, Ben and tied them up. In one hand, bound to the chair, Patrick held the remote control, and in the other a Styrofoam cup filled with soda. Silence was similarly outfitted.

The doorbell rang.

"Come in!" Patrick screamed. "FBI, right? You want to untie us?" The agents looked taken aback for a moment. Then, they used pocketknives to free them. Silence's dress was ruined as she removed the tape, and she changed into a loaned pair of slacks and shirt from her father. She came back down and found the FBI interrogating her father.

.. And stole my car."

"Damn. Do you have any clue as to where they are?" the agents asked Silence.

"No clue." She replied after seeing her father shake his head ever so slightly.

"I see. What about Mr. Poole and Dr. Chase?"

"I know them even less well than my brother, and we grew up apart from each other."

I see. Well than k you for your cooperation; we'll notify you with any breaks we have."

"Thank you."

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, here's the first chapter to my new fic.**_

_**Balrog: I see.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Please forgive the wait in the updating of this story. **_

_**Balrog: Humph.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Can you be nice?**_

_**Balrog: Can I be gneiss? I am made of rock, naturally, but not gneiss. Igneous rock, not metamorphic.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Nice, not gneiss! I know, they sound identical, but pleasant, not metamorphosed sedimentary rock!**_

_**Balrog: Oh, nice, not gneiss! Be clear, Celebwen!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Back on track. I'm sorry for the wait, and here it is. Chapter 2 of Literally Treasure.**_

_Sindarin_

English

_Speech to and from the Esgaroth thrush_

**Translations from Sindarin**

Silence closed her eyes and allowed her mind to drift. She re-experienced her older days, and heard her mother's voice singing.

A Elbereth Gilthoniel 

Silivren penna miriel

o menel aglar elenath!

Na-chaered palan-diriel

O haladhremmin ennorath,

Fanuilos, le linnathon

nef aear, si nef aearon!

**O star-queen star-kindler**

**(White) glittering slants down sparkling like jewels**

**From firmament (of the) star-host!**

**To-remote distance after having gazed**

**From treewoven middle-earth,**

**Snow-white, to thee I will chant **

**On this side of the ocean, here on this side of the great ocean!**

The hymn to Elbereth was ancient, and in the ancient tongue, in Sindarin, to be exact.

"What is that song?" a voice, the second henchman, she recalled, asked. "I recognize it."

"A hymn, to Elbereth," Silence replied.

"Come down, How do you know the song?"

"My mother used it as a lullaby. My father is Christian, and so she couldn't pray to the Valar and Illuvitar until they divorced." _'My mother is a beautiful woman, but she can be a lunatic sometimes,'_ Silence said to herself in Sindarin.

'_Howso?'_ Shaw asked in the same tongue.

"Quenuvalye i lamber Eldareva!" **Thou canst speak the tongues of the Elves** Silence yelped.

'_That I do, Miss Gates.'_

"Dinen," **Silence** she replied grudgingly.

'What?' 

'_My name is Silence; please use it. I am uncomfortable being addressed as Miss Gates. It makes me feel old.'_

'_Alright, Silence. In that case my name is Derek. How did you learn Sindarin?'_

'_My mother taught me.'_

'_What was her name?'_

'_Danielle.'_

'_Danielle Aglariel Shaw!'_

'_Yes! How did you know!'_

'_You're my niece… I am Derek Aglarion Shaw.'_

'_Prove it.'_

'_The female line has always searched for the treasure of Erebor. The female side of the family has every thing the Fellowship of the Ring had.' _Shaw went to a panel, and beconed her inside a secret room. In there was a small bird, a thrush.

"_Good morning, Derek. How are you? And who is this lovely lady you've gotten?"_

"I'm fine, Bowsong. Meet my niece, Silence."

"_Are you able to understand me, Silence, Dinen?"_

"I can understand you very well, Bowsong." She was surprised. Shaw really was her uncle. "Only a member of my family would know how to speak to Esgaroth thrushes, because my family has a lot of Dale blood. Dale nobility, in fact." She blinked tears from her eyes. "You are indeed my uncle." They shook hands, then Shaw pulled her into a fatherly embrace. She was shocked that she had found an uncle. They separated, and Silence held up a pair of fingers, which Bowsong fluttered to. "Are you older or younger than nanneth nin?" she asked.

"Younger. You couldn't make me take the Dale crown if you paid me!" He laughed, and then they went to find some supper with the others.

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Silence sat in the SUV, contemplating the reason for her brother's insanity. She began to sing the song that the Dwarves in the Hobbit sang before going to sleep on the night that they had shown up for Bilbo's party. Her uncle joined in before long, making her father very confused. He knew that Shaw was his brother-in-law by now, yet was very reserved towards him. Then, Viktor opened the door, and Silence leaned out, seeing her brother. She could feel her father by her, and knew that Ben saw both of them.

Five minutes later, all of them were in the Trinity Church's basement. Shaw had shattered an old tombstone, and they had dragged out the old body.

"So, who wants to go down the dark scary tunnel inside the tomb first?" Riley asked rhetorically.

"Ben, you first," Ian said, motioning with his gun.

Silence and Ian had been working together quite a bit, and she willingly followed her brother to appease her new friend. He wanted the treasure, yes, but was wanting it for charity purposes, and to find out several things, such as how to stop the current Avian Influenza from spreading to humans in a 1918 Influenza epidemic repeat gone pandemic, as an old friend of his had caught the Avian flu gone human in China and now was very dead.

In the passage after the tunnel, Ian looked long and hard at Silence.

"Someone got a light?" Riley asked, holding a torch. Shaw lit it, and they continued on down the passage, lighting a chandelier on the way.

"Watch your step," Silence's father said. Then, minutes later, Silence's feet gave way. She was falling with a yell, until a strong pair of hands grabbed her fingertips, and another her arms, and she was hauled back up, shaking and trembling. "Ian, meltha, Derek, nanneth-muidor," she whispered, clinging to both. Derek let go of her, and Ian held her close. She could feel his heart hammering against her own chest, and then his lips were on hers, her heart sped up swiftly, and a bolt of lightning seemed to strike her gut as she felt him kissing her. She kissed him back, knowing there was no turning back now. She was attracted to him, and she felt her knees go watery; then he let go of her. They continued, Silence blushing brightly enough that she was surprised they still needed the torch. She kept bringing her fingers up to touch her lips that had been used for this new odd use.

The stairs cracked. Ian grabbed her about the waist and tossed her onto the elevator. She held out her arms as her uncle came hurtling towards her, then her father and Ian. Finally, Ian's other man in the subterranean expedition, Phil, came flying over.

Ben yelled, Abigail yelped, and Ben, she saw, was about to fall. He tossed Abigail over onto a seemingly more stable area, and grabbed the Declaration, which he had dropped. Silence tossed a rope to Abigail, who caught it and came onto the elevator. Then, Riley followed, and Ben fell onto the elevator from the breaking board he was clinging to.

Phil lowered the elevator, and they all stepped off. Silence sneezed, and sniffed the air. Then, her father looked at the back of the passage, and Silence joined him, feeling it. Experimentally, she pressed a circular button looking thing, and the wall fell slightly in. Derek and Ian came up to push the wall back with her help, and the stale air billowed out.

They entered at a run.

"No…" Ben muttered. "Someone… got here first."

"Ben, you moron!" Silence snapped. "How big is this treasure of yours? Much bigger than this room, apparently." She trotted about the perimeter, and then yelled again at her brother. "Ben, where's that pipe you had? I think I've found someplace for the thing." She watched Ben come up and place the pipe in the socket obviously meant for it and the stem where it belonged. Then, he turned the stem, and they watched the wall slide out of existence a ways away. They entered the new area, and Silence looked around, Abigail mentioning something about Alexandria. Ben went forward as Riley embraced an Egyptian statue.

"We found it," Ian whispered to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She looked up into his grayish green eyes and smiled. He kissed her swiftly, and she kissed him back. The place was filled with light as Ben must have found a main torch, and they looked about the chamber, seeing more treasure there than they had thought of.

"I'm surprised it's all still here. Hell, I'm surprised the Trinity Church still stands," Shaw muttered.

"Dragons went extinct long ago," Silence said to her uncle. "I think. Don't quote me, though." Her uncle was a touch pale after that statement, but let it stand.

"Riley, are you crying?" Abigail asked.

"Look. Stairs." Silence's eyebrows rose.

"A i harma?"**And the treasure?** she asked. He looked oddly at her, as Shaw struggled to keep from choking on laughter. Ian went and spoke softly to Shaw, then came over.

""Im mel le," he whispered to her. She was shocked.

"Le mel nin! Le mel na i er harma nin."**You love me! Your love is the only treasure for me.** He kissed her gently at first, then passionately.

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The FBI man, Saduski, was waiting for them.

"A vana," **Oh, beautiful,** Silence said sarcastically to her uncle who was very pale now.

_Pigs,_ he replied.

_In this case, FBI. What do we do?_ Silence muttered.

_I really don't know. _"Listen, you, Saduski. Listen to us. We found the treasure; you can't incarcerate any of us."

"I have to; you guys stole the Declaration of Independence."

"Not technically; it was those three," she said, indicating Ben, Riley and Abigail. "But we will make a deal with you to keep from returning to prison. You keep us out of prison, and you can return the Declaration. Don't, and we'll be forced to take action to remove you and your men from the premises, permanently."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a promise." Suddenly there was a loud scream outside, followed by others and honks. "Something's scared the populace witless," Silence said.

"No shit," Phil replied.

"What by Eru?" Derek Shaw asked the air. He then saw what the others had. Something massive and dark had cancelled the light source of fifteen stained glass windows. Silence cursed very colorfully, and looked around.

"What the… hell…" Saduski said as a gout of flame seared the streets.

_Oh holy shit. Holy Eru-damned shit. Uncle, can I borrow your gun? That's a dragon._

"Eru rûth na tenn' met…" **God's wrath is upon us...** Shaw whispered in terror.

"What in bloody hell is that _thing_?" Ian cried.

"A dragon."

"Uh… right. Dragons aren't real, Silence," Abigail said, as a white gout of flame took off the doors.

"Dive for cover!" McGregor cried, bolting back for the basement at highest speeds. As the head poked in, Saduski fainted.

"Go back under, the quick way. Find something to block the entrance!" Patrick called, yanking the gun from his daughter's hands. Ian grabbed her and they raced for the basement, where they got in swiftly.

"Adar! Adar! Noro lim; gurth i uruloki!" **Father! Father! Ride swift; death (to) the dragon!** There was a roar, a bang, followed by another and a roar of pain and rage. The pews were scattered, from what Silence could hear. Another bang was heard, a loud thud, and silence. A nasty stench found its way down, and Silence saw a trickle of thick gluey red liquid coming down as she shoved the casket of Parkington Lane out from the passage and they exited. No sound could be heard.

Silence ran up, and beheld the corpse of the dragon. It took up at least five pews for its head alone. The door and the entire front wall were gone, completely. It had gunshot wounds in its eyes, and one in the roof of its mouth, reaching into its brain. Then, Silence saw her father. He was in a dead faint, his clothes nearly burned off, and he was covered in third degree burns. He would loose his arms and legs at the very least, most likely his life as well. As she watched, his breath slowed and finally stilled.

"Adar…" **Father...** she whispered. She looked at him, beginning to cry. The pews were gone, and a smoking hole was where the alter should be. _Father, rest in the peace you have deserved,_ she murmured in Sindarin. She removed the coat she had worn and covered his head and face.

_He was a noble man,_ Shaw said quietly, holding her. He rocked her back and forth, whispering to her a soft Elvin lullaby. She could see tears down his cheeks as well, and Ben gave a cry of pain and outrage as he saw the corpse. Then, Saduski woke, and took them outside, where he led them to a place for them to mourn without seeing massive holes in the pavement, crushed cars or bodies, or any other sign of the dragon's presence. Then, he apparently fell into a state of shock, having seen the carnage of and a corpse of a dragon.

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"Listen, Keene, you'd better get down here, with some sort of animal control and a news team. There's a dragon in Trinity Church… No, I haven't been drinking!… Nothing fell on my head, either!… Yes I'm goddamned sure it's a dragon!… Well, what else is the size of a 747 and breaths fire!…No, we can't… The treasure, it's real. Only a real treasure would have attracted a dragon… Shut up about the injuries and hallucinations! I'm positive it's a dragon! No matter what the chief says!… Just get your scrawny ass down here by yesterday! God, what a stench the thing's putting up… No, it was killed to keep it from killing a few others and me. One person so far confirmed dead."

Sadusky hung up as the populace milled about in a state of semi-panic. "God, what a nightmare today is turning out to be." He groaned and placed his head in his hands. "Everyone calm down. The situation is under control!" he yelled from the broken steps of Trinity Church. _Unless any more come, that is,_ he thought despairingly.

"Is that a dragon?" a little girl asked, clinging to her doll. Her mother was in a faint beside her.

"Yes, it is_. CALM DOWN!_" he hollered as people began screaming. "_IT IS DEAD!_" His throat was beginning to burn from all of the screaming he had been doing. _God help me._ He began to wish he had taken that job as a hambergur flipper at McDonalds he had been offered in his teen years. He wouldn't have to deal with a terrified mob, a demolished Colonial-era church, at least one dead human, and a dead dragon in that case. Nor would he have to deal with the fact that someone had done the impossible and had stolen the Declaration of Independence, somehow.

Joining up with the treasure-hunters looked like a good idea now. A very good idea. Get rich, and very possibly leave the country.

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Yes, I know, it's shorter than the first chapter. I think. Six and a quarter pages. And a dead dragon.**_

_**Balrog: And you killed Ben's father! Murderer!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Everyone dies!**_

_**Balrog: Not you!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: So? I'm Edhel. An Elf. Elves don't die. Unless you count Valinor. Please review, people.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**_Celebwen Telcontar: Here's chapter three of Literally Treasure. None of the characters, save Tarichar, the priest, Silence and Danielle are mine, except for the idea of the Bardréd family._**

_**Balrog: I see. Well, lets sit back and enjoy this show! **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Very good. You are improving your social habits, my friend! Now on to the story!

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**_

Silence stood near the casket, her eyes dry and her breathing even.

"I… I know you never knew him well…" Ben began. Silence looked at him with an unfathomable look in her grey eyes. She was true to her name, and silent, then she walked away towards her uncle, who was staying on the fringes of the mourners, Ian and Danielle with him.

"Len, dearest…" Danielle whispered, a silk handkerchief near her eyes and dabbing at falling tears.

"U si, Nanneth." **Not now, Mother.** Silence's voice sounded dead, even to her own ears.

Tul, met uva kel." **Come, we will go. **Danielle laid a hand on her daughter's arm. Ian looked odd, not even blinking, and staring at the casket dumbly. Shaw placed a hand on his boss' arm and guided him out of the gathering; his face just as stoic and blank as ever. Ben stood near the casket now, a hand on the coffin. The priest droning on about Patrick's life went unheard by the Treasure group.

Craaa**_aaaSSSHHH!_** The splashing and shattering sound was heard by all of the mourners.

"Le gondol!" **You stonehead!** Silence snapped as Riley backed away from the fallen and shattered punch bowl. Danielle managed to repress a snort of contempt at her son's friend. She, her brother, daughter, and her daughter's boyfriend went out into the parking lot and found the SUV that they had come in, and then drove off to Danielle's home.

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Ben awoke with a mind-numbing sneeze. Abigail was out of bed, and had left her side rumpled, and he could hear her brushing her teeth. He looked down, and saw a large grey and brown tabby cat laying, sprawled on the coverlet, taking up seemingly more space than was physically possible for an animal of that size. Ben sneezed again. He hated cats. The cat raised its head and blinked sleepily at him, then stood and stretched. Ben kicked at the beast, hoping to get it off of the bed and out of the room. It started to growl deep in its throat and attacked his feet, sinking its teeth deep into the hollow between his big toe and the rest of his foot. Ben yelped and kicked again. The cat kicked back, growling slightly, then began to purr as it kicked him repeatedly, gnawing on his already sore foot.

"Ow, you confounded monster!" he snapped at it. The cat dug its teeth and claws in deeper, making Ben yelp in pain. He leaned over, sneezed, and seized the cat about the scruff of the neck, intending to toss it off of the bed. It yowled and twisted around, latching onto his arm, and sinking its teeth into the soft flesh between first finger and thumb, its claws raking furrows down mid-forearm to a bit above the elbow, the fore claws digging into his wrist. Ben yelled, shaking his arm and sneezing. The cat growled and dug its teeth in deeper.

"Tarichar!" **Queen's Heir!** a voice, his mother's he thought, snapped. Danielle stood in the doorway, a fierce expression on her face. "Tul! Tul si, Tarichar!" **Come; come now, Queen's Heir!**The cat growled and bit deeper. Danielle glared at the tabby, who released Ben and sauntered off, rubbing its side against his face and making him sneeze all the harder.

"Get away, you confounded beast!" Ben snapped, giving the cat a good kick. It only went back to its game of Hunt-and-Kill-Ben's-Feet. Danielle walked over and bodily removed the cat, scolding it while it hissed at Ben. "I hate cats," he moaned.

"Lor hir nin, estel tul le, **Sleep my child, hope come to thee,**

Nai mi du. **May it be** **in the night.**

Aglareb maia Eru anna-uva le **Glorious angels God will gift thee,**

Nai me du. **May it be in the night.**

Oiale i lor lumenn' na raen **Ever the sleepy hour is wandering**

Amon i imlad loresse lor **Hill and valley in slumber sleeping**

Im hir nin chebtir** I my child, watch am keeping**

Nai me du** May it be in the night.**

Maia tir oiale pel le **Angels watching ever round thee**

Nai me du. **May it be in the night**

Loresse le pel le **In thy sleeping (close) surround thee**

Nai me du. **May it be in the night.**

Oiale i lor lumenn' na raen **Ever the sleepy hour is wandering**

Amon i imlad loresse lor **Hill and valley in slumber sleeping**

Im hir nin chebtir** I my child, watch am keeping**

Nai me du** May it be in the night.**

"Im mel le, Dinnen. Lor man, muindeth-iel." **I love thee, Silence. Sleep good, Sister-daughter.**

Ben listened to the beautiful song, not understanding the words, and suddenly realized that the person singing was Shaw, and he was getting sleepy again.

Suddenly the recent events hit him like a thunderbolt. His father was dead, killed by a creature he thought only existed in fairy tales. But that must have been a nightmare. How could dragons be real? He laughed at his own gullibility; then rose and dressed, and went downstairs.

Gregor, Ian, Phil, Victor and Abigail were eating. Or rather Victor was standing and gathering the still full plates and saying something about edible food while Abigail kept on wolfing down the greenish-brown mess.

"This is edible!" Abigail protested.

"No, it's not. Red beans and rice, with pickles and vanilla extract?" Ian asked. Ben choked and looked at his fiancée.

"Great." He groaned and stared at the mess, not liking the looks of it in the least.

"It's good!" She cried, defending her plate with her arms from Victor trying to grab it to rinse the odd concoction off of it.

"Who made that?" Ben couldn't resist asking.

"I did. I wanted red beans and rice and pickles, then smelled the vanilla and thought it would be a good addition." Abigail snapped. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if supporting her breasts, as if they were aching. Ben looked revolted at the food.

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Shaw held the purring feline in his arms, scratching behind her ears. She tipped her head up, closing her eyes lazily.

He was worried about Silence and Ian, though he supposed he was also worried about his nephew, but Ben hadn't been brought up to know about Dale and its calling, about the long Lake and the land the Bardréd family must eventually rule as the royalty of Dale.

'_You like that, don't you, Queen's Heir?' _he asked the cat in Sindarin. The animal purred even louder, and made an oddly charming chirruping noise. Shaw laughed. He looked into his niece's bedroom, happy that she was finally asleep. He almost gave his boss a good dose of sleeping pills after the funeral, but knew from experience how furious Ian would be, then Shaw saw Ian asleep on the guest bed, out like a log. Now hopefully Ian would be able to concentrate better after a full night's sleep.

'_Father… Father! No! Father, don't! It's a dragon!'_ Silence cried out in Sindarin in her sleep. Tarichar wriggled from Shaw's grasp and leapt onto Silence's bed, meowing, and curled up on the sleeping woman's chest, purring rhythmically. Silence settled back into a deep sleep, and Tarichar's head went down as the cat seemed to go into sleep as well. Shaw smiled and nodded to the cat, before going downstairs to find his sister and catch up on lost years.

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"Dinnen, Le na vana. Im mel le." **Silence,** **thou art beautiful. ****I love thee. **Ian was practicing some Sindarin, after Shaw had told him several lines that he had asked for. Now he was running them up and down through his mind. He had been awake, though he had feigned sleep, through the night. The dragon kept coming back, though he had almost convinced himself that it was a nightmare come to life. But the charred body of Patrick Gates kept coming back to haunt him, and he was still very confused and resistant to believing the truth.

"Here," Phil said, handing Ian a plate with a Pillsbury orange roll and a hearty helping of hash browns and eggs on the side. On either side of the hearty meal was a triangle of toast, and a full glass of orange juice was at his place at the table.

"I'm not hungry," he muttered.

"Eat, boss!" Phil said.

"Ian," Shaw's voice came into the kitchen. "You need to eat." Ian let himself be guided to the table by his right-hand man, and began to pick at his food. He felt Shaw's eyes on his back, and knew that his ruse wasn't going to fly as well as it did last night. He ate half of his orange roll, some eggs and a piece of toast before trying to rise, only to be stopped by a pair of strong hands on his shoulders holding him down. He looked into Shaw's unamused eyes. "Eat." The Bardréd man said firmly. Ian sighed and ate another bite, still feeling Shaw's eyes on the back of his head. He didn't relent until Ian had cleared his plate of all but the icing on his roll.

Victor cleared the plates, and placed them in the sink. Shaw then got a piece of a board, tattered, and with a peeling piece of paper glued to it. The paper was yellow and in some places worn through, and reminded Ian of pieces of hide found in different places, such as the Ice Age cave in France, old and ready to fall apart.

"Here is where the Lonely Mountain is," Shaw began. Everyone leaned closer.

"Nanneth-muindor!" **Mother-brother!**a voice cried, scandalized, and all beheld Silence storming down the stairs, her face like a thundercloud. Thinking quickly, Ian put together a plate of breakfast and handed it to her as she came down, quickly kissing her. She looked at him fondly, then glared in the direction of her uncle.

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Shaw nearly qualed under that furious look. Oh, she was her mother's daughter, all right, and not much of her father was in her!

'Uncle Derek. I thought you would do this, then I remembered you singing a lullaby to me. Why?'

'_You need sleep, since you've hardly slept in two weeks.' _

'_Pray tell, why did you not speak to me?'_

'_I have too much experience with your current love interest to be much other than like I am. And besides, I always wanted a daughter, now I feel as though I have one.'_

'_You are not my father, though I may feel as if you are.'_

Shaw felt as though she was not completely certain that the dragon was real.

Suddenly Ben gave an odd groan and fell.

"He's gone…" Ben said. Riley pattered up to him and stuffed a glass of some clear liquid in his hands. Ben drank it, and yelped, tossing the glass and choking.

"What the hell was that?" Abigail asked.

'That, Abigail, was Mother's liquor.'

"Eru. Vodka?" Shaw asked, startled. He didn't think his nephew could handle such a potent drink, but one never knew. Ben collapsed, taking Riley to the floor with him. Phil and Shaw took him upstairs and put him on his bed, then went downstairs to be briefed on the newest treasure, the Bardréd Treasure.

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**_Celebwen Telcontar: Bardréd means Bard's Heir, and since Bard the Bowman was the King of Dale in the Hobbit, or was after Dale was restored, I thought that would be a good family name. Also since the Bardréds and the Dunedain have inter-mixed, they are a far more noble line than say the Tudors. It's like Aragorn being called Isildur's Heir, even though Isildur was not the last King of Gondor._**

_**Balrog: So is that why Shaw and Danielle seem so young for their years, that they are related to Aragorn and thus Arwen's blood in their veins lengthened their lives?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Correct. Now I want to thank all who have reviewed, especially my Beta, Elenhin. Thanks, you all! And I hope you continue to read Literally Treasure! Please review!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Celebwen Telcontar: I want to thank all the people who have reviewed, especially Elenhin, my wonderful Beta, and LadyDeb. Thanks to all of you, and a massive group hug!**

"_Danielle," Laura, the eldest child of the last Chieftain of the Bardréd people, spoke to her eldest child, whose belly was swollen with pregnancy. "Daughter of the Bardréd, our traditions have been passed down from the time of Elessar and Bard of Dale, and they from their ancestors. You have married secretly outside of the Bardréd people and are with his child. You have also told your husband of the sacred histories._

_Danielle Josephine Gates, your name is erased from the histories of our people." Laura stepped forth, unpinned the eight-pointed star with the mountain engraved upon it from Danielle's cloak, and had Danielle's younger brother, Derek, unpin his large leaf shaped brooch and replace it with the star. "No longer are you a Bardréd, you are Outcast." The assembled Bardréd turned and left, black clothes of mourning flapping in the stiff breeze. Uialriel, Danielle's Mearas friend, attempted to go to Danielle, but Laura and her Mearas stallion, Ithil, stopped her. Then, Danielle fled._

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Laura sat up in bed. She hadn't thought of that day in ages, why now? She decided to get up and start the day, rising and placing a dress robe about herself. She walked into a separate chamber of the rock-hewen palace that the Bardréd had lived in since King Thranduil of Mirkwood had gone over the sea with the remaining Elves in his household, leaving the palace to the Bardréd.

Memories. They were as numerous as leaves in an autumn wind. Laura tossed a handful of leaves into the brazier, feeling the wind wash over her and smelling the herbs burning and the scented smoke wreath the chamber. She lifted her hand as she approached the pedestal, holding a hand hovering over a cloth covering a sphere.

The palantir that had been in Orthanc during the War of the Ring.

Laura swept the cloth off, and placed a hand on either side of the black orb, willing it to speak to her.

A group walking down a spiraling staircase. A woman falling, then being caught by Derek and another man. The man kissing the woman.

_The stairs breaking. The woman being hurled onto a dumbwaiter elevator. Derek following, then Patrick. The blonde man hurling himself over the gap onto the elevator. _

_A wall sliding out of place. A grand treasure in view. Scrolls on a shelf. Stairs in the far wall. _

_A wind, stronger than any other. Doors shattering inward. Wall falling inward. Great beast seen, unfurling its wings. Fire streaming from jaws. Patrick grasping a gun from the woman, firing at the dragon. Dragon dying, Patrick dying. Woman weeping. Derek holding her. _

_Noise, speech. Woman speaking in Sindarin. Derek answering. _

_Danielle. Speaking Sindarin. Woman and Danielle looking alike. Woman also looks like Patrick. _

_Woman's name._

_Silence._

Laura wrenched her gaze from the orb, flying halfway across the room. She had a granddaughter, one who could speak Sindarin.

Danielle had raised her to be a Bardréd, Laura could see the kinship to the Heirs of Bard in her straightness of back, strength of will, and light in her eyes. Danielle had to be reinstated as a member of the Bardréd family.

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Danielle groaned as she lifted the cumbersome crate from the wooden floor. Every step was hard with the heavy container in her arms.

'_Derek, can you help me?'_ she wheezed, her lungs being hampered by the bulky crate. He took one end, and she the other, and they bore it downstairs, and then set it on the table. _'Silence, can you come here?'_ Danielle said before sneezing dust from her nose. Derek wrestled the top off with the help of a claw hammer. Sadusky wandered over and yelped at the training equipment in the crate: banged up metal practice swords, blunt daggers, a tiny bow that was worn with a broken string, and arrows that had some heads coming off or others that were splintered. _'Silence, can you train Ben in weapons, Derek can you in history and I'll train him in Sindarin?'_ she asked.

"What is this stuff?" Sadusky asked, confused. He picked up a sword, and looked at it. "It's a piece of junk!"

"They're training weapons, meant to teach, not kill. The live weapons are quite different. Ben!" Silence said, yelling the last word. He came down, yelling, Tarichar latched onto his scalp.

'_Queen's Heir. Come, off of his head,' _Derek said firmly, grabbing the protective cat about the waist. She yowled, but allowed him to take her off.

Several minutes later, Ben and Silence were in the training room, facing each other. Silence held her blade like a live weapon used to decapitate orcs and other foul creatures; Ben, on the other hand, held his as far away from him as possible.

"Alright, Ben. First things first, you need to be holding the sword correctly, not as if it's the tail of a snake that will bite you." Ben shifted his grip on the practice blade, wishing he were anywhere else. Silence could tell because of his eyes shifting from side to side and sweat breaking out along his brow. He was frightened, of a sword. "Benjamin Franklin Gates, the sword will not bite you! Use it!" She attacked him, making a very simple move that even an infant would have no trouble in finding the weakness in. Ben yelped and dodged.

"You're trying to kill me!" Riley rushed in, apparently to aid Ben, and got the edge of the sword against his arm, barely scraping him. He yelled and picked up a live sword, attacking Silence. With Riley using no finesse, Silence easily parried the blade and sent it spinning across the floor.

"Riley, get out before you get yourself killed. This is a training session, not a playground. Leave." Riley yelped as she raised her sword in a mocking salute, and rushed from the room, white faced. "Alright, Ben. Come at me. Pick up the damned sword and attack!" He looked at her oddly.

"Why? Why do I need to learn this?"

"Because every Bardréd, correctly taught, must know it. Now fight!" She swung the blade at him, the dull iron metal whistling through the air straight for his neck. He yelled and brought up his sword, blocking it. The two blades met with a ringing crash, and he dropped the sword. "Pick it up," she snarled. He scrambled for the sword, yanking it up and nearly braining himself with the hard iron blade. "Eru give me patience! You'll be slaughtered in testing!" Silence growled in frustration. She lifted the blade, and he tried to attack her, nearly giving her a concussion, if she hadn't brought up the blade in time. "It's passable, but you need to be better at finesse! Come on, Ben, attack!" She held her blade in a parry as he brought his down in a sweeping move, trying to be graceful, and looking like someone who was trying out for the Nutcracker Ballet. Silence sighed in frustration. The way he moved and instinctively held the blade, she knew he was a natural. Now if he would only allow that natural ability to work!

She came up with a new plan. In a blurring motion, she began to attack, forcing him into retreating and parrying. The clangs and crashes showed where he had met her blade, and he soon was trying to anticipate her movements. Until he made a mistake and tried to attack, leaving his side open and unprotected. The flat of Silence's practice blade struck his ribcage, and he yelped and fell to his knees, holding his side. "Ben, never leave your sides unprotected! If nothing else, use your arms to protect your sides; your arms heal and will not kill you, but if I accidentally had ruptured your spleen or liver, you would not heal!" Silence snapped at him, racking up her practice blade and getting a pot of tea started, shredded dried willow bark being the only ingredient. Soon the tea was ready, and she handed him a cup. "Careful, it's hot. It may not taste all that good, but it will take away the pain." He took a sip, choked, and spat out the tea.

"What the hell is this!"

"Willow bark tea. Willow bark is high in the same stuff they put in Advil."

Ben groaned and drank the tea in a long draught, choking and spluttering at the throat-wrenchingly bitter taste of the tea.

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The aircraft docked and Laura stood. She calmly left the plane, and walked to the hold area. Being led down were three horses: her Mearas stallion, Ithil, Danielle's Mearas mare, Uialriel, and Derek's Mearas mare, Elen. She let her eyes wander as the horses got into the trailer of the truck she had rented, and got in and started it.

'_Wretched American cars,'_ she muttered, sliding into the drivers seat after mistakenly getting into the passengers side. She pressed her foot to the pedal, and drove off, her mind wandering over what she would say to her daughter. "Yipe!" she yelped. She had let her mind wander too much, and she swerved her car into the proper lane, one of the horses screaming and kicking the side of the trailer in near panic. She drove to a nice suburban house, rather large, and stopped the car, letting the horses out.

Suddenly, Elen and Ualriel's ears went up and they shoved past Ithil as the door opened to admit none other than Danielle. Uialriel nuzzled her several times, nipped at her hair, and all but embraced the woman.

"Úialriel…? _'Mother?'_ Laura ignored her.

'_Mother, why are there two horses here?'_ Silence asked. Ben stood near her, doubled over, his face in pain and a practice sword in one hand, a cup of tea in the other. He had obviously come from a session of sword training.

'_Silence, Ben, this is your grandmother.'_ Laura snatched the blade from Ben and chased Silence outside, beginning to fence with her. Both giving it their all, and soon both women were soaked through with sweat, and were panting. Ben's eyes were wide.

"So that's how you use it! That was beautiful!"

'_Silence, you are good. Who is Arassuil's grandson?'_

'_Argonui son of Arathor I.'_

'_Elros Tar-Minyatur and his son and grandson?'_

'_Vardamir son of Tar-Minyatur and shis son Tar-Amandil.'_

'_What does kûd-dûkan mean and in which tongue?'_

'_Kûd-dûkan means "hole-dweller" in the tongue of Rohan.'_

'_What is today?'_

"Blotmath minya., odo, neldë yeni." **November First, (age) Seven, three Elven-years November 1, 532 Seventh Age.**

'_How did the Fourth Age end?'_

'_A great plague swept through the lands of Arnor and Gondor, killing many people. The sheets of ice came down from the North and covered much of Arnor.'_

'_The Fifth Age?' _

'_The last true Dumedain, Alexander III, died, as did his horse, the last horse with Mearas blood outside of Bardréd raising.'_

'_Very good. Now the Sixth Age.'_

'_The Dwarves were driven farther into their mountains, the Hobbits began to shrink into their own lands and are unnoticed by Men, and the last of the Sylvan Elves went over the sea into Valinor.'_

'_Who are the Four Ancestors?'_

'_Bard, King of Dale; Elessar, King of Gondor; Éomer, King of Rohan; and Faramir, Prince of Ithilien and Steward to King Elessar.'_

'_What happened to Ecthellion IV?'_

'_He wed outside of the Bardréd, and was outcast.'_

'_Very good, Silence, very good. When I return to the Bardréd, you are coming with me, to be tested and to raise your Mearas.' _

'_Thank you, Grandmother.'_

'_You are most welcome, Granddaughter. Silence Dogood Hithen Aglariel Dalehiril Telcontar Shaw Gates Bardréd.' _Laura stood and helped Silence up as well, then embraced her.

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Shaw picked up the sword, as did Ian. Silence was watching this practice session, wondering how far Ian had gotten in his training. Within the first minute, Silence knew that Ian was a natural with the sword. But the way his eyes flashed and the way that he dodged, his flying hair, and his knotted and bunched muscles, they reminded her of her uncle, in a way. Also of her mother and her grandmother. Laura came and stood near her, her eyes wandering over Ian and Shaw.

'He is Bardréd. I can tell. He has the eyes of the Heirs to Anarion, lost since Tari Firnorn wed with a non-Bardréd. Look at him, his grey eyes, his voice, his height. They are all Bardréd traits, but most often come through in the Firnorn line. The Telcontari have darker hair, the Firnorn's hair is lighter from the line of Eorl merged into it from Eowyn daughter of Eomund. The Daleter, on the other hand, have the strength of Bowmen, and also the patience that neither the Firnorns or the Telcontari have. He is of us, he must be trained. He will have a Mearas, and will also have a portion of the treasure of Erebor. The line of Firnorn has been long lost to time. It has at last been found.'

'He is a Steward?'

'Close enough. His ancestor is Faramir son of Denethor.'

'I never knew.

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Marie Narfin Aglariel Caranar Stone Bardréd saw the dust being kicked up by a running horse. By the speed, she identified the creature as Mearas, and then the rider was in her midst.

He had aristocratic features, was very tall, and had brilliant piercing blue eyes beneath golden hair. His eyes. They held her and took her breath away. They were like a pair of blue stars, with a net of gossamer about them. They held the timeless ages in one glance, and were sorrowful yet laughing. She knew he was no Man, or Adan, but Elf.

He slid off of his Mearas, a white stallion who wore no tack.

'_Thank you very much, my friend Silmir,' _he murmured in Sindarin to the stallion, who snorted and nuzzled him. _'My Lady, will you please take me to Laura Harriet Ariel Dalehiril Shaw Bardréd?'_

'_I am dreadfully sorry, My Lord, but she is no longer in this area. She has left for the United States.' _Marie felt very flustered around the enigmatic Elvin lord, and soon was playing host to him, though he knew the way about the Bardréd caves like the back of his hand, most likely because he had lived here long before the palace had been in the keeping of the Bardréd people and the various branches of the family.

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Laura switched on the television, and saw the newest President of the United States, Andean Gorge, making a speech.

"And so, My Fellow Americans, we shall be with them, with our troops in Iraq, and with those who aid our country. The new Special Forces Unit will be at the edge of our lines, protecting you all…" Gorge made Laura feel nervous for some reason or other. He was too good-looking: she recalled tales of Númenor and how Sauron was as Annatar, a glorious-looking person who was enigmatic and very manipulative. Also, Gorge was manipulative in his own way, and liked being the center of attention. She brushed off the feeling. She was going back to Germany soon, so why would she need to trouble herself over Andean Gorge? She had other things to worry about, such as the new and only Firnorn, Ian Howe. She would have to get him into the Bardréd as well, and she had already decided on an arranged marriage between him and Silence. Besides, Silence already seemed to like him, and she they needed an Heir for all of the families, and since Laura's grandmother was a child of the Edorashil, Silence was of all three families. And Ian was a Firnorn. Not to mention that it was better to wed with someone you like and could learn to get along with, rather than someone you did not know in the least.

It would be done. Silence would wed with Ian Howe.

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The blonde Elf looked around the trees. This had been his home, for years uncountable. His father had dwelt in the Palace, and had been Elvenking here in the Forest of Mirkwood.

"Many memories, eh?" a familiar voice asked. Legolas swiveled about to face an old man leaning on a staff, his clothing pristine white.

"Mithrandir!" Legolas cried. The old Istar nodded sagely and looked carefully at the Mirkwood Elf.

"You look just as you always did, my friend. I take it you have felt the stirrings?"

"I have felt something. Like…Like a great evil, come back to live. But Morgoth is not free, and Sauron is dead… Or is he?"

Mithrandir sighed then nodded sadly. "I have felt the Ring's presence in this world. It was never truly destroyed, not even in the fires of its forging. The rock brought forth by the eruption of Orodruin after Frodo cast it away holds it, and its evil still lingers." Legolas stared at his old friend in surprise.

"I thought it had been destroyed in the Fires of Orodruin!"

"It had been partially melted, but the Ring could not be fully destroyed, not even by the power of the Fires of Orodruin." Legolas sighed in a silent prayer.

"And thus because of the fact that the Ring was not fully destroyed, neither was Sauron. Evil walks this earth again."

"Yes. We must aid the Bardréd, the ancient Heirs to Isildur, Anarion, Eorl, and Girion." Legolas looked around.

"Indeed we must, my friend. Indeed we must." He began to slice off strong, long, thin branches from trees, in order to make more arrows. The third war with Sauron was about to begin.

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Silence pulled her horse to one side as the ground cleft down to reveal a majestic canyon. The sedimentary layers of the earth were laid bare in sunset colors with sandstone reds, pegmatite and quartzite dikes of pink and crystal white, and a rising blush of mudstone, shale, and another layer of sandstone.

"Hey, Silence!" Riley yelled. The sound bounced off the rock walls, and an unstable rock tumbled, pushed by the sound waves, down into the canyon with a terrific crash. The horses skittered and whinnied, startled by the sudden noise.

"Naldaro, naldaro, mellon nin. Dinnen, daro, Elgollo," ** Stop crying, stop crying, my friend. Silence, stop, Starcloak. **Silence whispered to her horse. The appaloosa mare snorted and settled down, her speckled rump quivering with suppressed excitement. "Riley, do not shout. This land, it magnifies every sound you make. The greatness is what causes the echoing of the voice."

"Uh… yah. Well, Silence, I…" He looked at her. "There's a restaurant back there. Do you wanna go there for lunch?"

"Lunch? It's three in the afternoon. And that's a McDonalds, and a greasy one at that."

"Uhh… Dinner, yah. Dinner."

"Riley, what's wrong?" Abigail asked.

"I… uh…" He kicked his horse forward, more cruelly than was necessary, and drew near to Elgollo and Silence. Ian had now fallen back to ride with the others after scouting out part of the canyon.

"Spit it out, Riley," Silence said. She was irritated so far at him, but decided to let him say his piece.

"Er… Do you wanna go for a shake-shake?"

Silence looked at him. Abigail groaned. And Ian fell back. Riley began to look nervous.

"Cel, Riley. Loa ore." **Go away, Riley. Grow a mind.**

"What the hell was that?" Ben asked. He was looking straight ahead, at a massive forest that was above the canyon, and infringing upon it.

"Welcome, my friends, to the Black Forest of Germany," Laura said from Ithil's back.

"Home…" Danielle whispered. Uialriel neighed slightly and pranced in place.

"Do not touch the water, it is enchanted to cause one to sleep should one touch it. This is Mirkwood, not simply the Black Forest." A scurrying sound came across as a tiny black squirrel scampered overhead, and a clicking was heard.

"What is that?" Ben asked.

"Most likely branches clacking," Sadusky replied, hopefully.

"Don't be too sure. Parts of the forest are darkening again, and we believe it may be the spiders."

"Don't say that!" Abigail said, shuddering. She dismounted quickly and found a place to regurgitate her breakfast.

"What is this, the sixth time you've done that in three days?" Riley asked. Ben rolled his eyes.

"Riley, Abigail is pregnant, I think. The cravings for red beans and rice, pickles, and vanilla, along with the three year old salsa on freezer-burned ice cream are another part of her condition."

"It's not a condition!" she screamed.

"So are mood swings."

Horse, Riley's mild-tempered gelding, made an odd snort as Riley cried out in horror.

"Oh! Ah! Ah! Get off! Eh! Oh! Hoh! Hoh! Ah! Ehh!" he cried, sawing at the reins and clamping his legs about Horse's barrel. Then, with a whinny, the gelding reared and came down, attempting to buck off its rider.

"Roch, mellon nin, naldaro!" **Horse, my friend, stop crying!** Laura cried, grasping for Horse's reins. The spiders that had decided to land on Riley were most likely crushed as he fell from the saddle onto the forest floor.

"Ahhh… humans…" a voice said in the distance in the trees.

"Oh shit…" Ben said, remembering the Attercops and Tomnoddys from The Hobbit. Spiders the size of their horses would not be a good thing. Shaw's Elen snorted and held her ground, as did the other two Mearas. The non-Mearas horses, on the other hand, spooked and only the calming hands of their riders kept them calm. The sounds of huge bodies scurrying through the forest made the horses even more nervous, and Vixen, Abigail's chestnut mare, fled into the forest, and gave an odd grunting squeal. Silence believed that she had been turned into giant spider food.

"You said it," Riley replied, struggling with Horse, who was still trying to flee with Riley's hand and foot entangled in the reins and him grabbing a tree branch. Elgolo reared and screamed her terror, and Silence was knocked from her saddle as the mare bolted out of the forest. With a splash, Silence landed in the river, and blackness encompassed her mind.

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Firnorn, in Sindarin, means 'Dead Tree'. As the White Tree died when the Heirs to Isildur left the City of Minas Tirith in the care of the Stewards, I figured that to be a good name.**_

_**Balrog: I see. Makes sense, sort of. If you don't mind, I'll get back to my apple rolled in gneiss crumbles, now.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Alright. Go ahead. Break your teeth on rocks. Please review, people.**_


	5. Chapter 5

Tarichar sat on Silence's bedspread, ears pricked. Silence's breathing was ragged and she gasped, crying out in her sleep. The cat purred and walked over to Silence, laying in the pool of starlight on the young woman's chest.

Suddenly, the light was dimmed, but not eliminated. Tarichar looked up to see an elderly female cat, dusty golden brown, ragged and well past he prime. The moonlight was gleaming right through her, and her green eyes shone like two tiny stars.

"Tarichar, Tarichar Melcharlendora." Beside the old cat jumped up a cat like a condensed patch of night-black. He languidly leapt down, his golden eyes fixed on Silence's face.

"Fear not, Melcharlendora. She will awaken." Tarichar jumped. How did these two cats, these two ghosts, know her Heart-name! Had they been Sent by Tren the Snowdancer and Cat Goddess and Rechtel the Shadowpaw and Cat God! Or were they lost spirits, looking for a cat to beguile? Or were they the Shadowpaw and Snowdancer Themselves? Tarichar was frightened; such spiritual guiders had never approached her. Nor cat-demons. The female cat padded over to her, and Tarichar felt the fur on the back of her neck and along her back raise and her tail puff up.

"Do not worry, Melcharlendora," the female, who was not as white as the new-fallen snow as the tales told Snowdancer Tren to be, padded over, the black cat, as black as the tales of Shadowpaw Rechtel, following. The female approached cautiously, as if Tarichar would pull back, revolted. When Tarichar remained where she was, guarding Silence against anything, be it natural or supernatural, the elderly ghost-cat began to wash the fur around Tarichar's eyes. The black cat looked at Silence, and then placed a paw over the young woman's heart.

The motherly feeling of the female ghost-cat washing her face made Tarichar loose some of the fear that the two ghost-cats would harm Silence. Slowly, Tarichar drifted off to sleep, her mind in her memory of the times before she had been badly abused and her mother killed. The thrumming purr of the female ghost-cat lulled her into a very deep sleep.

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Tren looked at her mate.

"She needs to live. This human is the last chance for the Ancient Two-Leggers to live again. There is a massive war on the way, one that has been fought before. Did you see the Stoor-human?"

"The one like that five-hundred-year-old two-legger? How could I not? He revels in the deep places of the world, and he is tiring. Soon the Scarlet Shadow-Angel will come, with his Golden Bauble, and destroy the world. It is time for beasts and humans, at least these humans, the last remnant of the Ancient Two-Leggers, to work together. Nahar and Telperiel will teach their descendants how to speak the human tongues. So must we."

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Slowly the sensation left Tarichar, and the cat awoke. She was in a patch of sun, Ian standing near Silence's bed, and then he sat down and stroked a lock of hair from Silence's face. He drew back slightly as Tarichar got up and stretched, yawning and displaying her formidable teeth and claws. Ian looked about to get up and leave when Tarichar pounced on his thighs, getting him to sit down and go about three or four shades paler than beeswax, most likely from fear of her sharp claws. She began to purr, and then curled up, pushing her head insistently under Ian's hand until he began to pet her.

Oddly enough, Tarichar was not mindlessly worried and taking the worry out on Ben, who screamed like an obscene cross between a dying screech owl and a newborn human child, but was happy. She leapt to Silence and began to lick her face, while Ian was holding her hand.

_Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime,_

_Lead me save me from my solitude,_

_Say you'll want me with you here beside you, _

_Anywhere you go let me go too,_

Silence, that's all I ask of— 

"Who the Hell are you!" Silence roared into wakefulness. Tarichar yowled and scrambled off of the bed. Ian jumped backwards, knocking over the chair and getting caught in its legs as Silence's fist sought his cheek and found it, loosening a tooth and knocking out another. He ran out to find a sink to spit the blood into, then hung over it, his eyes tearing and his vision sparkling from the pain. A roar was in his ears, and he clutched the sink for support.

'_Who ever knew someone knocking out a tooth would be that painful?'_ He thought, his thoughts muzzy.

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Shaw had been walking down the hallway, trying hard to think straight. Mariah Gaya, a Bardéd woman who had helped Silence become as comfortable as possible in her comatose state, had become a dear friend to the group, save Ben, Abigail (Who was having nasty mood swings worse than Tarichar's) and Riley. Now Shaw was sure he had a crush on her.

Technically she was not Bardréd, but Éothédfola, the Rohirric branch of the culture, and thus related to him very distantly, if at all.

"Who the Hell are you!" Silence cried. Apparently she was awake.

_**Crack!**_

Tarichar came streaking out and leapt into Shaw's arms. Ian came running out and into the bathroom. Shaw rushed into the bathroom in time to see Ian spit a tooth and a mouthful of blood into the sink.

"What happened?" Shaw asked, putting Tarichar down. She immediately began to purr as she wound about Ian's ankles. "How the Hell did you get a tooth knocked out!" Shaw cried.

"Silence woke up," Ian mumbled, fumbling for his handkerchief. Shaw stared at Ian before taking the fabric from him.

"Stay here, do not move, and make sure that the blood drips into the sink." Shaw walked out of the room, pounded down the halls to the healers. '_One of my friend's teeth was knocked out. I need some powdered geranium root and quite a bit of the willow bark potion.'_ He got what he needed and ran down the halls again, grabbing a cup of lukewarm water on his way back.

"How long do I have to stay like this?" Ian asked, frustrated. Shaw knew he would have moved from his place had he not been in so much pain, or afraid of staining the ancient and beautifully worked stone hallways of the palace.

"Rinse your mouth out with this." Ian did so, wincing. "Hold your mouth open. Wider, Ian. I can't do anything for you without you holding your damned mouth wide!" Ian gaped, and Shaw inspected the hole. "All Bardréd are given the healing classes. Don't wince." He sprinkled geranium root on the wound then soaked the cloth in the willow bark potion, before packing the cloth in the hole where Ian's tooth had been.

"Gaak! Ahh! Urgh! That stuff's horrible!" Ian protested. Shaw had had his fair share of injuries as a child, and knew how bad the concoction tasted. He poured Ian a cup of the highly bitter liquid.

"Here, drink, and don't complain." Ina stared at the medicine, his jaw so purple it was almost black and his cheek swelling. "If you're good, I'll practice with you. If not, I'll send you to Bladesmaster Helkaorë, known as Iceheart." Ian scowled, but drank the vile concoction, gagging and almost retching.

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Tarichar trotted out of the room, intent on finding something to eat.

"Why did she clobber him?" she asked herself. "It accomplished nothing and he did nothing to her. Besides, Silence chose him as her mate. It would make sense for her _not_ to do that!" A foot came down on her tail. By the smell, it was Riley's. She decided to pay him back for something he had done to Ian about three weeks after Silence fell into her coma, about five days ago.

FLASHBACK 

Riley stepped in the room and looked at Silence, who was still and looking lifeless. Tarichar was near her, sitting on the bed and looking at Riley. Then Ian stepped in. He brushed past Riley in order to get to Silence, and stroked her cheek gently.

Tarichar knew that something was going to happen. Riley's face grew red. He rushed over and yanked Ian out of the chair by the back of his shirt as Ben and Shaw stepped into the room. Riley's fist collided with Ian's stomach, and the older man doubled over in pain. Tarichar yowled and leapt for his face, missed as Riley stumbled back, and Ian grabbed his shirt. Riley punched him again, completely out of control. The dark-haired man was in a jealous rage. In order to save himself, Ian punched Riley in the nose, not hard enough to kill him, but hard enough to break it and to render Riley unconscious. The younger man fell to the ground, and Ian swooped Tarichar up before the cat could do any serious damage to the young man.

END FLASHBACK 

She yowled, unsheathing her claws, and latched herself to his leg. A high-pitched squeal, like a mad pig, preceded a hand clobbering her on the back. She was hungry, and didn't want mouse or bird, and remembered her mother's words.

"Melcharlendora, my kitten, attack here if someone is trying to hurt you again. Usually they will leave you alone after that." Tarichar latched herself to the shown spot, and was nearly deafened by the loud screech, like an insane banshee, emitted from her prey.

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Three days later, Riley was packing his bags. He wanted nothing more with this treasure hunt, especially if that damn cat was going to come along. Ben had scars from the murderous animal, and now he wasn't sure if he could have children because of the damn animal. Besides that, Ben had asked him not to stalk his sister. What was wrong with looking at Silence? Then there was Shaw. The man flat out scared him. He was going back to the states, and forget all about treasures. This treasure had cost too much, Patrick's life, and potentially the lives of Riley's future children. Not to mention how bad Ian and him got along now. He looked one last time at the brown and gold cat with black streaks. She was looking murderously at him from Ian's arms. When he looked at her, she hissed in what he was sure was rage and murderous intent, and he left at a run, his feet headed in the direction of the highway that would take him to the airport and thus the United States.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, this one is bound to be interesting. **_

_**Balrog: Howso?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Just watch. And listen. Oh, dear! (Gold black and tan cat comes careening in, Balrog jumps back, yelping, and Celebwen nervously eyes it.) Tarichar? (Cat purrs and begins to use Balrog's galena and pegmatite sundae as a scratching post.)**_

_**Balrog: You have officially weaned me of galena and pegmatite sundaes, Tarichar.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: (Laughs.) Please review, people. It gives me strength.**_

Sulin stamped, apparently annoyed. Silence was working with her back to Ian, and Sulin gripped her sleeve, hurling her into the blonde man's arms.

Suddenly, the horses spooked, Ben's Fleck pulling free and fleeing.

'_Stop!'_ Derek cried to Fleck, who kept running. He sprang onto Elen's back and rode off after the errant mare. After Elen exited, a brown and gold cat with black stripes came sauntering into the clearing. Silence shoved herself out of Ian's warm embrace, and stopped cold as Tarichar's hiss was directed to her. She turned to see her beloved cat, who only liked her, being petted by Ian, and she was purring as she leapt up to lie like a stole across his shoulders, washing his ear, as if he was her own kitten.

"Tarichar?" she asked. "Why? How? You like him?" Tarichar hissed at her again, and Silence began to feel a bone-chilling terror that she had never felt before. She was afraid of her own cat, the cat whose life she had saved. She jealously watched as he winced from her cat's cold nose, and felt hurt. She lifted a curry-comb to groom Sulin, but Sulin wasn't there anymore. Silence looked around, and saw the silvery mare lying behind Ian, letting him lean against her. Silence felt cold, as if she had been abandoned. A tear ran down her cheek. Her best friends, her _only_ friends, were gone.

Elen came back in, Derek holding Fleck's bridle.

"Hello, Tarichar. How did you find us?" He dismounted and retied Fleck's reins to a tree. "Oh, are you being too aloof to answer me?" Tarichar sniffed, looking down her nose at him.

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Derek saw that his boss was chewing his food on only one side of his mouth, and whenever Tarichar, sitting on his shoulders, licked the unused side, Ian would attempt to unobtrusively twist away.

"Is that tooth still giving you trouble?" Derek asked. Ian nodded resignedly. "Come here; rinse out your mouth with water." Ian did so, wincing in pain, and Tarichar jumped off, meowing at Derek, then trotted off into the woods, most likely to hunt some defenseless beast. "Open up." Derek saw that the tooth was rooted loosely, and the base and gum were coated in puss, the gum red and swollen. "Abscess. Here take some more willow bark potion." He handed Ian the bottle of medicine and Ian pulled a disgusted face. But he took a couple of mouthfuls of the medicine

Derek stood and began to scan the foliage, finding a small white flower that looked like a morning glory. He collected some leaves, went back, and put them in water, then put the pot over the fire. When it was boiling, he ladled some out into a cup.

"Here," Mariah said, handing a pair of pliers to Derek.

"Do you have a needle, Mariah? I need to lance the gum." Ian's eyes went wide. Backwoods dentistry, in the middle of nowhere. The thought, apparently, did not sound appealing to him.

Silence looked at Shaw, and Derek felt sad that his niece no longer recognized him. Mariah dug into her pack until she found her sewing kit, and handed the sharpest needle to Derek. He walked over to Ian, who was white with fear and anticipation. He had drained the cup of datura that Derek had made him, and the narcotics were working on him, for he looked rather stoned. "Open up, Ian. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner the pain will be gone." Ian opened his mouth, and Shaw took the needle in one hand. "Eru dring le Kemmen-mor-nar!" Derek snarled at him, as he saw the extent of the damage. "Gondol!" **_God hammer you to Hell! Stonehead!_** "You goddamned idiot! You have three abscessed teeth. They need to be pulled, or else they will fester even more! Blockheaded moron." Shaw thrust the needle into the gum, causing Ian to yelp and jump, and the puss to come flowing out. Then, when all three abscesses were as drained of puss as they would be, Shaw took the pliers in his hands. "Phil, Gregor, Ben, Victor! I need all of you to hold Ian down. This is not going to be pleasant," The four men came over and Phil looked at Shaw before grasping one of Ian's arms, Gregor took the other arm, Victor a leg and Ben the last leg. Ian simply sat there, looking stoned, blood mixed with puss still trickling from his mouth. Shaw clamped the pliers about one of the teeth, and pulled. A gurgling scream of pain began to be voiced by the backwoods dental patient, and Ben yelped as one of Ian's feet must have found a tender spot. There was a pop, and Shaw staggered back, the pliers clamped about a cartoon-simple tooth, smeared with a graphic amount of puss and blood. Then Shaw moved on to the other two, getting the procedure over with as quickly as possible.

Finally, after the dentistry was over, he stuffed his handkerchief in the hole in Ian's mouth, thinking that it would not be good to leave the cloth square in place all that long, as it could inhibit Ian's breathing. The geranium root powder should have been in the saddlebag medikit, and soon he found it. "Sit still, Ian." Shaw quickly removed the kerchief, now more red than white, and re-dabbed the wound several times before sprinkling it with geranium root powder. Ian's face and hands were paler than normal, most likely from blood loss. "Mariah, do you have a small piece of cloth? Smaller than a kerchief?"

"I think that the medikits have small bits of bandaging in them," she called back, trying to stop Ben from whimpering. Ben staggered back after Ian had collapsed, perhaps from lack of blood but more likely from pain. Ben began to nurse his knee, where Ian had kicked it so hard that now it was a useless lump of bone, sinew and meat. The cap was bruised, and Ben was screaming, when Shaw took a look at it.

"Shut up, Ben," Shaw snapped, feeling the kneecap. "No liquid under it, but the cap's cracked, and the joint has been hyper-extended. Goddamnit!" he yelled. "We have to take a leave from the trip or leave Ian and Ben here," he said, going over to the others. He grabbed the willow bark potion, and force-fed Ben a good dose, then took a long strip of cloth and began to bind Ben's knee in place.

"Take them South, back to the palace," Mariah suggested.

"Good idea. Come on, all of you. On your horses. Sulin, behave." The Mearas mare glared at him, neighed loudly, and Tarichar came streaking out to land on her back. Silence mounted, and Shaw took Ian by the shirt, tied him in place behind Silence, and mounted his own horse behind a still-whimpering Ben. "Southward bound," he called, and the group headed South.

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Five days later, the group had not met with the Bardréd Palace at all, and Shaw was getting nervous. He was confused as to their location, until they passed a young woman in rough clothing on a bay gelding. A kerchief covered her long brown hair, and her breeches were patched about the insides of her thighs, as if they were mended often there. Her tunic was a deep forest green and belted at the waist with a length of rope.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hello. We're lost, can you help us?" Silence asked.

"You're from Eryn Lasgallen, aren't you? Well, now you're in East Lorien, more specifically the town of Nimlad."

"White Ravine?" Silence asked.

"Versus Morais, our brother-town," the woman said. Her eyes were those of someone who believes in something so devoutly that they consider no other recourse of their faith.

"Black Horn?" Shaw asked. Ben's jaw dropped like a weighted stone.

"And where is the Star?" Ben said in a reverent tone.

"What star?" his twin asked, completely confused.

"The Seal of Solomon. The perfect balance between the Masculine and the Feminine."

"Eleno David. Another town, with no sibling. How do you know of it?" the strange East Lorienese woman asked, looking thoroughly confused.

"The downward pointing arrow, like a ravine, is the symbol for the Feminine. The upward pointing arrow, like a horn of a mountain, is the symbol for the Masculine. Together they make the Star of David, the perfect balance between the Masculine and Feminine. You're Masons." Ben's theory was mostly correct, though the Masons had been from Scotland. Eryn Lasgallen and East Lorien were in Germany.

"No, we're descended of the Knights who discovered the Temple of Solomon."

"Descended of the Knights Templar. As am I, and my twin sister, Silence Dogood Gates."

The woman had an odd look on her face. "I have never seen you before."

"We are from outside of the forest," Silence said carefully. She apparently was not going to risk getting these people mad at her.

"We found the Templar treasure. The one from beneath the Vaults of Solomon," Ben said, not being able to stay quiet when talking about the treasure.

"You found her? And what are you doing with her? Dragging her across the entire countryside, no doubt?"

"Her? We found the jewels and the gold…"

"Aha! The _physical, tangible_ treasure. Not the real treasure. That is information."

"Information about what?" Ben asked, sounding rather confused. As Shaw was riding pillion behind Ben, who Elen had not taken well to, even though he was injured, he could not see Ben's face.

"The Holy Grail. Come, Father Shumaker will be wanting to see you." She turned her horse, and the group decided to follow her. Ben looked excited, like a child on Christmas morning. Tarichar looked like she would rather be someplace else. And the other people were not so sure about such a journey. But it could not be avoided, as both Ben and Ian needed medical attention, and fast, and if a woman who believed that the Grail was in King Solomon's temple was to give the aid, then at least she could.

Shaw looked at Ian who was riding pillion behind Silence. He was looking a lot better, considering, and since the willow bark potion was being used almost constantly, the fever he had due to the abscess and infection from it had subsided and now Ian was sitting up and taking in the scenery with eyes unclouded by pain or fever. Ben on the other hand, was still being an idiot where his knee was concerned. If he never walked on that inflamed joint, it would heal stiffly and it would be an entire session of Ben relearning how to walk. Shaw was _not_ up to teaching some complete moron how to walk on an inflamed or stiff joint! Knowing the git, he would think that the Holy Grail would help him. What an idiot. The Grail was not the Cup of Christ, and thus would not help him.

"The Grail was in the Vaults beneath Solomon's Temple?" Ben cried, excited. Shaw refrained from braining the idiot.

"No, did you not listen to what I just said? It was information about the Grail, about what it is," the woman said, sounding exasperated. "I've got to get you two to the Healer, you don't look so good. Come on." She led them out of the woods into a clearing, where the town was bustling. In the center was a tall stone structure, and it took Shaw but a second to realize that the entire town had been built about a massive stone cathedral. "Welcome to Nimlad, and I hope that you enjoy your stay here." She led them to a stone house near the cathedral, and a woman with blonde hair and green eyes looked at them with a stern expression in her face. "Nicole de Lonquret, I have a couple of patients for you. One has something wrong with his leg, the other I think is close to being completely healed."

"Well, get down from your high horses, and come inside. I can't very well set broken bones from up there." Townspeople were beginning to gather, and a woman dragged their guide away.

"Therese Brochu! I should have known it would be you. Get inside and finish the paperwork you need to do, and get into some proper clothing, not some your brother's breeches." Appologetic, their guide, Therese, was led away along with her big-boned bay gelding, and the doctor drew the human travelers inside the house, Tarichar yelling and latching herself to Ben's back then his head as he walked in. Ben yelped then sighed in resignation, realizing that the cat's personality clashed with his own, and Mariah chuckled.

"That cat really has it in for you, Ben." She looked at Shaw, smiling gently, and winked at him. He felt a flush of warmth touch his cheeks and felt his lower body tighten. She was beautiful, but right now he had to see what this healer could do. Ian was always his first priority. Even if he had to stop doing something with Mariah, he had to look after Ian. Ian had looked after Derek after Danielle had been turned away.

Flashback

Derek looked at the bottle of whiskey. It had hit him like a ton of bricks at first, but now it was mere oblivion. Danielle was gone, had forsaken the Bardred ways. And now Derek was a mess and unable to help her. He took another swig, and felt his mind sink lower into oblivion.

"Hey there, you're going to get yourself run over," a kind, yet skewed from the alcohol, voice said. Strong arms picked him up.

"My… sister…" he thought he said. He had most likely said it in Elvish. Or perhaps even East Lorienese, a form of French spoken by the East Lorien people south of his home of Eryn Lasgallen.

"Come on, lad, you're a mess. Come here." The man helped him to a car, where he embarrisingly uprooted his entire last meal into it. "You're going to the hospital."

End Flashback

That was the last Derek remembered of that day, and the next thing he recalled he was being talked to by Ian, and spilling his entire life story. There began a friendship that Derek had never before known, where he was given to as well as being the giver.

"He had three abscessed teeth," Derek supplied when the healer looked at him in explanation for the massive healing wound in Ian's mouth.

"This was well done, Monsieur Shaw. I commend you. Now all of you need sleep. Go lay down." Shaw didn't, though, and stood awake by Ian's side. "Go lay down. You need to sleep." Shaw still didn't sleep. The healer left Ian and Ben for a moment, and returned with a glass of wine. "Well, if you won't sleep, then take some wine to help you with your senses, and tell me how your friend got three abscesses without noticing it." Shaw drank down the wine, too tired to think about it, and began to ramble. About ten minutes later, he began to feel very sleepy.

"You drugged the wine, Madam!" he accused.

"You would not sleep. Now _go to bed!_ I can take care of two patients!" Derek stubbornly stayed up, until his body hit the floor from sheer exhaustion.

_**Celebwen Telcontar: How was that? I gave you a bit of information as to Shaw's past.**_

_**Balrog: Personally, I think you're wasting your time.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: (Splutters.) Wasting my time! How?**_

_**Balrog: You only have eleven reviews. Not many people like this story. Ahhh! Damnable beast!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: What? You're making no sense.**_

_**Tarichar: (Races onto the scene, meowing loudly)**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Review, please!**_


	7. Chapter 7

**_Celebwen Telcontar: Here's the new chapter. As always, I do not own anything here. _**

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**_Balrog: What about Tarichar, Silence, and Mariah? _**

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**_Celebwen Telcontar: You're right, Balrog. Anything here that is not owned by the Tolkien Estates or the movie business is mine. _**

**_Balrog: Understood, I suppose. Can I drop this gentlemanly way now? _**

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**_Celebwen Telcontar: I suppose. Just don't burn anything I need. No! Not the manuscript for the next chapter! Stop! Balrog, stop! Ahhh, too late. This cliffhanger will need to go longer due to Balrog's clumsiness. Please enjoy, and please review. As always,_**_ "Sindarin," _Thought, **_Divine Speech.

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_**

Derek sighed. This was getting old! Ian would eat a few bites, barely chewing them, and his sleep was short and fitful. More than once this week Derek had shot a murderous glare across the table, and he had eaten a few more bites. Then, after this last meal had begun, when Ian ignored Derek's glare, a low, deadly snarl came down from the rafters followed by a furious hiss, and Nicole, the Healer, looked up, as did Derek, to see Tarichar's lamp-like eyes gleaming from the shadows. Ian hastily ate his food, lest he raise her wrath further. All at the table watched every food-laden fork closely as it went from Ian's plate to his mouth.

Another reason for Derek's exasperation was Ben's adamant belief that the only way to heal his knee was to use it as little as possible. He had purloined linen bandages and wrapped his knee as if it had been mummified, limping as if he had lost the leg entirely. Now he limped in, and Derek was furious. He stood up so fast his chair clattered to the floor.

_"Care to help me, Queens' Heir?"_ Derek called to the roof in Sindarin. The twin pinpricks of light went out then on again, as the medium-sized gold-brown-and-black marbled female cat leapt lightly to the floor. Her entire body shuddered as she bent her legs to absorb the shock of landing. Tarichar chirped and trotted to Ben, leapt to his "wounded" and most likely stiff knee, and made short work of the bandages. She amazingly, didn't touch his flesh, but the shredded linen fell to the floor. Derek left, looking for Elen, found by the water pump, covered in flowing carnation garlands like a triumphant racehorse. The mare looked pissed, and Derek laughed. He collected several blossoms, and Elen shook herself off, the flowers going every which way as the delicate stems holding the wreath together snapped. She bent her head and began to eat one of them, and then spat the blossom into the well. "Think you can bear Ben for a bit to get his knee in working order again?" Derek asked her. The mare looked thoroughly disgusted, snorted, and made an odd growling sound, but she bobbed her head in a semblance of a nod. Derek left for Nicole's home, Elen following dejectedly.

At the door, he met with Ben. Derek's nephew was standing in the sun, using the wall as a prop, and Tarichar was in the doorway, hissing furiously.

"Ben, get on Elen. You need more exercise to loosen up the muscles, this is the best way you can get it." Ben mounted, and grumbled, and then Elen began a very rocky trot, each of the bounces making Ben look a shade paler.

* * *

The moon rode high in the skies as Tarichar stood on the windowsill. Her mind was on the past, on the stories of Shadowpaw Rechtel and Snowdancer Tren, the god and goddess of cats. The time was near, when Rechtel and Tren would come to help humans. That had only happened once to some Egyptian Pharaoh. That was the reason the ancient Egyptians worshiped cats. She looked to the bedroom door, past Ian who was not even trying to sleep. He was lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling as words, indiscernible and soft, floated past his lips in a song. His voice, unlike Ben's, had a beauty in it that she had never heard in the human voice. It was melodious and charming, and threatening to put Tarichar to sleep. The door opened and Derek came in, carrying a mug of an odd-smelling tea. The cat recognized the smells as mint with a slight scent of datura. Ah, Tarichar thought, He must not be sleeping well now. Only Derek would dare to make datura tea for Ian. I do wish Silence would get her memory back. It's infuriating that she does not like Ian any longer. Their kittens would be charming, though very intelligent for humans. The same can be said for Derek and Mariah's kittens. What a pair of tag-alongs they would be for Silence and Ian's kittens though.

"Ian, here. Drink, the mint will help you with your blasted stomach-ache."

"I don't have one."

"Ian, we had a supper with a lot of sheep's milk cheese in it. I know how you don't handle sheep's milk well. Drink." Ian took the mug and sipped it while staring at the moon and stars. Derek began to softly chant an old ballad about Eärendil the Mariner, who went to find the Valar and ask for help in defeating Morgoth. Eventually, Tarichar leapt down and curled up, purring, on Ian's chest. The datura began to work, and she felt Ian drift off into sleep.

_"Thank you, Queen's Heir,"_ Derek said, softly stroking her head. She looked up at him and meowed slightly, pawing Derek's hand. "What?" he asked. She looked to Ian, and Derek smiled. "Yes, I know. He's finally asleep for once. I hate it when he's not eating and sleeping." She gave a low growl, and Derek laughed and left.

* * *

Mariah sat in the chair, a pot of oil with relaxing herbs in it by her side. The door opened, and Derek stepped in. Dark circles were beneath his eyes, and he looked as if he had been worn ragged.

_"Derek, lay facedown on the bed."_ Mariah stated in Sindarin. _"Now. And remove your shirt. _

_"Mariah-"_

_"Derek, 'now' does not mean 'at the end of our current age'! Take off your shirt and lay down! Now!"_ Derek sighed and did so as Mariah began warming some of the oil between her palms, smelling the relaxing herbs and feeling them threaten to remove the measure of control she had over herself and tumble Derek there and then. She began to massage his shoulders, undoing knots that felt like they had been formed from granite. Every muscle seemed to have at least one Gordian knot tied up in it, most likely from the shock and stress of the last three years. From what she understood, Derek had been running around the entire American East Coast, up to Greenland, to England, and who knew where else, found a long-lost niece and nephew, and found a treasure worthy of the Templar Knights. Gasps and groans of shock and pleasant pain were heard from Derek, as he lay prone of the bed. Mariah's massage worked down below the shoulder blades, and soon the massage rendered Derek fully incapable of protest. She licked her lips, wishing she dared to kiss the skin she was massaging, wishing that she dared to tell him she loved him. The skin of his back was as pliable now as she could wish, and she let her long ebony hair brush against his back, the feeling of his flesh beneath her hands sending shivers of delight up her spine. The candle's light made Derek's oiled skin gleam golden, and she wanted more than ever to take him in her arms and make love to him.

The smell of the oil and Derek's own smell sent erotic visions coursing through Mariah's mind. She began flushing; her cheeks a brilliant scarlet, and she kept on stroking and massaging the pliant skin and muscle. She let loose a primal moan of desire, and Derek rolled over and pulled Mariah down with him.

"Mariah?" he asked, his voice unusually husky.

"Yes, Derek?" she replied, just as huskily, seeing his eyes filled with an unknown emotion. He traced her jaw line with his finger, and she let him, his touch sending her to another dimension of pleasure.

"I am not apt at words of romance…" he began.

"Nor I," she replied. He kissed her mouth, making her seem to melt with joy. Swiftly, their kisses grew more passionate, and then the night grew more eventful for both of them as Derek slowly and gently made love to Mariah.

* * *

Ian woke swiftly, yet didn't move. Something heavy was on his chest, a band of warm weight across his ribs. It shifted when he tried to get comfortable, and then it chirped sleepily. His eyes snapped open, and he saw a feline on him, sprawled like a thoroughly content child. She was taking up more space than he would have thought possible for such a small creature. She yawned, sticking her tongue out, and began washing herself. After she finished, she pulled herself lazily to her feet, stretched both sets of legs, yawned again, curled up into a ball, and went back to sleep, purring, fully contented. Ian chuckled and decided to follow her example, lying lethargically in bed.

The door opened after a knock, and Derek came in, bearing a breakfast tray. The Bardréd man looked… odd, not like his usual self. For one, his eyes had a new sparkle, and his cheeks were flushed. He practically glowed. Tarichar looked at him and chirped in a questioning way, then looked passed Derek and into the hallway, where Mariah was getting ready for a morning bath. She snorted, and Ian suspected that it was in mirth, and Mariah looked blearily at the feline, then grumbled. Apparently she was not a morning person.

"Good morning, Ian. I trust you slept well?"

"Well enough."

"Good. I'm glad you're getting some sleep now." He looked at Tarichar who subtly looked at him. Derek nodded and set the tray on the bedside table. "I need you to get more sleep and eat more."

Tarichar looked up and at Ian. Her gaze was almost angry, and she jumped off of the bed and ran out the door.

"Yes, mother."

"Ian," Derek said warningly. Ian could hear the light chuckle in his voice that he was trying to hold back. The sparkling eyes didn't help any. Tarichar ran back in, her jaws closed about a large hank of beef, which she placed on Ian's bedspread. She began gnawing pieces off and placing them on Ian's lips, as if she were his mother. Derek laughed. "She obviously agrees with me. Tarichar, make sure he doesn't get up until he's slept at least another hour, and finished the entire tray. He doesn't have to eat what you gave him." She looked at him as if he had just sprouted wings and horns, then pushed the meat off of the bed and pawed Ian's mouth open, dropping a small bit of biscuit in it after biting it off. Ian spat it out, then Tarichar growled at him.

"Alright, alright!" Ian cried, sitting up and taking the tray on his lap. He began to eat the large breakfast, hearing Derek chuckle. Then Tarichar jumped onto the windowsill, looking at him and watching every single bite that Ian took.

Ian saw the cat on the windowsill before Derek.

It was as black as sheer nothingness, its eyes more brilliant than gold. As if it were made of pure obsidian, it did not move a hair, its eyes riveted to Tarichar's slumbering form. He chirruped once, and Tarichar leapt up, then trotted over to the black.

"Whose cat is that?" Ian asked.

**_I am no one's cat, Son of Anarion. I am Shadowpaw Rechtel, the cat god. _**

****

"What…?" Shadowpaw Rechtel touched Tarichar's mouth with his tongue. Then he was gone, literally, as if he had never been there in the first place. Even the never-surprised Tarichar looked startled at the turn of events. She looked like she was off-balance, then regained her internal serenity and looked at the two humans with the cool gaze of a monarch who will not divulge any information for her subjects.

Suddenly, the door was thrown open by Silence.

"Ian, Uncle Derek, Nicole needs to talk to all of us. The East Lorienese are arming up against us. Something about us finding the treasure. They will kill us all if they get hold of us." Tarichar looked utterly furious at herself, and jumped down. She raced from the room followed by the three humans, fur raised and her tail fluffed. Apparently, she was as frightened of this prospect as the humans were.

* * *

**_Balrog: Well, how was that? _**

**_Celebwen Telcontar: I'm supposed to ask you that, fireball! _**

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**_Balrog: If my annalysys of the… uhm… What's the cat doing here? Oh dear… uh-oh… see you at the next update! _**

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**_Celebwen Telcontar: Balrog? Balrog? It's just Tarichar! Oh, no. She's scared him off. Please review people, I've got to find my scared Balrog before he sets off the smoke alarm. Sorry about the cliffhanger. More on that subject will be broached next time. Balrog? Balrog! Bye, folks! _**


	8. Chapter 8

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, here's the next chapter. **_

_**Balrog: I see. And what is going on here?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Why should I tell you? It's a surprise.**_

_**Balrog: (Peeks into script book) Ahhh! You… you…**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: (Removes script book and tosses it backstage) No more slices of granite orange for you! Please review, people. Please review.

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**_

Nicole stood in her dining room, a grave expression on her face.

"Derek, Silence, Ian, all of you, the East Lorienese people have decided to wage war on you eight personally for finding and scattering the Templar treasure, and through association the people of Eryn Lasgalen. You need to get out of Nimlad, and East Lorien, as soon as possible. I have already packed enough provisions for two weeks on horseback."

"Thank you for your Healings and hospitality, Nicole de Lonquret. We will never forget you." Derek hugged her tight, as did everyone else. The nine people pulled out their chairs and took seats.

"Employ the cover of darkness. It will shield you, and make north. Use a zigzag pattern, elsewise the East Loreinese Border Guard will find you and they will want to know the locations of the Treasure. And can use several… unpleasant methods."

"Torture?" Ben asked, looking grave but not surprised.

"At the least. The most common method of public execution is burning, for worse criminals a banked fire that roasts them. Sometimes slow boiling is used as well." Again Ben didn't look all that surprised.

"The grey and white horses—" Ben began.

"Mearas," Derek corrected.

"Fine, Mearas, they are the fastest. We only have three of them. Could we all ride two to a horse and two ride three?"

"Perhaps. Elen and Shadestalker are the stronger two; I'll ride with Ben and Victor. Silence, you will ride with Ian on Sulin. Mariah, you with Gregor and Phil." The Eryn Lasgalenese travelers nodded.

"Speed and secrecy are of the essence," Nicole said. "As soon as the sun sets, leave."

"Thank you, Nicole," Silence said warmly, hugging the Nimlad healer.

"I'll see you all later. Quick, the sun is setting." Tarichar ran in and swarmed up to Ian's shoulders, taking a perch there, looking for all the world like a caring mother checking on her kitten.

Derek looked at Ben, eyebrows raised.

"Ben, you're obviously healed, as you have been running about with no sign of limp or pain. You are in shape to ride then." It wasn't a question, but a statement. "The sun's setting. Nicole, we will always hold gratitude to you." Then the eight travelers and the cat left the house. The sunset was a brilliant red, tuning the trees into a portrait of scarlet flame. Silence and Ian mounted, a pack behind them. The others got on as well, and he tree Mearas raced off into the north and Eryn Lasgalen.

Three days later, Nicole de Lonquret, Nimlad Healer and Midwife, was found guilty of high treason and harboring the enemy, and was burned at the stake as an example to those who would help Eryn Lasgalenians.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Tarichar had long since left the group to wander through the treetops. Below her were many East Lorienese, tracking the horses' progress. With no warning Tarichar dropped like a stone to land on the leaders' head and shoulders then shoved herself back up, wildly scoring him with many marks and making him yell in fury and pain. Then, she fled to an entirely different tree as arrows hissed near where she had been. She repeated the process multiple times, each time from a different angle, immensely enjoying herself and the squeals she got from the men.

"They're all around us!" one man cried. The soldiers were on a hair-trigger, and Tarichar yowled eerily then fled in the opposite direction. The arrows of their fellow hunters pierced many of the East Lorienese hunters as they tried to shoot Tarichar, and not coming within a foot of her. The leaves stirred as Tarichar stood on a branch, catching her breath and inwardly laughing at the idiots. She loved this game!

"A ghost are you now, daughter?" a voice said by her ear. Snowdancer Tren stood there, calmly washing her paw. Her coat gleamed like snow, and she had her sapphire eyes fixed on Tarichar.

"Apparently, Mother Tren." Tarichar nodded respectfully to the cat Goddess, purring lightly from exuberance and joy at seeing Snowdancer Tren.

"If you Speak and not just speak, you can make the Secondborn know your voice."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Riley was walking along, whistling and fingering his new acquisition, a small misshapen lump of vaguely circular gold metal. The road he was walking on wasn't even that, but a faint game path.

His gold object was very precious to him, and never left his hands. Fingers, cool and white, closed about his wrist. He looked up, and thought he had died and gone to Heaven.

She was a goddess, with her blue, blue eyes and her hair, as gold as the summer sun. She made Abigail's looks cast into deepest shade with her own fell beauty, both utterly good and terrible, as if he were looking into the face of God.

"Come." That word, beautiful and terrible in her voice, seemed to compel Riley into following. He could have no more disobeyed than cut off his own hand. Her movements were graceful beyond description, which only solidified his belief that he was looking into the face of God.

"Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee, Blessed amongst women, Holy Mary, Mother of God, Pray for us sinners, Now and at the hour of our death, Amen," he murmured, followed by the Our Father as he was pulled along to a helicopter. As he continued to say the Rosary, he felt bands that had been unnoticed open and push away. The helicopter pulled skyward, the others looking at him, and God smiling.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The time he had spent in what he was positive was God and Her Angels was indiscernible. His heart was full and several times he had broken into weeping from the sheer power and love in his soul. The constraints he did not know were there had been banished by a Presence. He was utterly at peace, and knew that he was going to be in Her service evermore.

"I am not God, Riley Poole, but a Servant to Illuvitar," the woman spoke. Her voice was beauty concentrated, and within that a measure of nothing but absolute power. She glowed, like…like… pure energy.

'Let there be Light!' He could imagine Her voice giving that wondrous command. But she had just said that She was not God. Was She and Angel? Or could She be His Daughter? She was most definitely someone holy.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The Elf felt frustrated, to say the very least_. 'All Dark Lords have large weaknesses,'_ he mused. _'Morgoth's was his arrogance, as was Saruman's. Somehow Sauron escaped destruction with his Ring.'_ He scrolled down the screen and his eyes saw something of importance, something horrendous. "No," he whispered. "He wouldn't dare!" but he knew that Sauron had; just as before, Sauron needed a pet volcano. The Yellowstone Caldera was growing increasingly active. Besides that , should Yellowstone erupt, it would crate worldwide mass hysteria; hysteria that Sauron would undoubtedly calm.

Legolas thrust himself backwards from the desk and raced across the room to the door. His private jet would definitely be needed here.

He made swift calculations, and knew that the world would indeed need someone to turn to, once Yellowstone erupted. That someone should be the Heirs of Elessar, Faramir, Éomer, and Bard. All four lines were remarkably strong within Eryn Lasgalen, though the lines of Elessar and Bard had merged into one.

He sat in the pilot's seat and buckled himself in, checking that he had enough fuel for a puddle-jump. Assets he had gained from centuries of hard work had paid for a tiny experimental aircraft that could soar past Mach 15, nearly unheard of speeds. He would need every second to get the people of Eryn Lasgalen into the position to take over as soon as the volcano erupted, and he had Mithrandir had best be poised to take down Sauron once and for all, if at all possible.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"We're lost?" Ben asked.

"I have a feeling that this is the Long Lake," Silence replied to him.

"Long? It's circular," her twin answered.

"Glaciation must have carved it out more and flattened Erebor."

"What's with the platform on the lake?" Gregor asked.

"It's the abandoned project of returning Lake-Town to Esgaroth. All that's left is the platform. There's the ferry over there, for who knows what reason. They're probably going to rip up the platform for wood soon," Mariah commented.

"Why tear it up after abandoning it?" Ian asked.

"Because of the close proximity to Erebor, where another dragon dwells."

"Dragons aren't real," Silence said forcefully.

"Silence, a dragon killed Dad," Ben said.

"Father is still alive, I'm sure. You know him, though I don't. I have no reason to, I am of Eryn Lasgalen, in exile, not some ridiculous town of stupid Men." Derek snorted, and Ben glared at her.

"Dad is dead, _dead_, not alive! You were there!" he fumed. "You saw his charred…" Ben cut off, his voice choked. "His charred…" He crumpled, sobbing, and held to clutch at Elen's mane, much to her disgust as she pranced and snorted, to keep from falling off in his misery. "He's dead, he's dead… oh, Dad, why? Why, damn you? Why? Goddamnit, why!" he roared. Elen reared and neighed, and Victor tumbled off of her back while trying to get as far away from the maddened horse and grief-stricken human as possible. Silence looked at Ian, and made a choice.

"Well, we need someplace to stay for the night, someplace where the East Lorienese can't reach us well. The platform is as good a place as any," Silence said. They made their way over to stay the night, letting tomorrow bring what it would.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: How was that one? **_

_**Balrog: Ben has been in denial since the incedent with the first dragon.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Can it, Balrog! You just gave away something else!**_

_**Balrog: Something else? What? What have I given away!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: (Points backstage, livid.) Review, people. I have to lock my pet balrog in a glacier to teach him not to spoil the story. Please do review. And kudos to anyone who figures out who the woman Riley thought was God is. He is rather amusing that way.**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Okay, I do not own National Treasure, or the works of J.R.R. Tolkien. I only own the plot. Oh, by the way, one of the lines isn't mine either, it's Joss Whedon's. Yes, I did use some BtVS lines for a couple scenes.**_

_**Balrog: Which ones?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: You'll just have to find that out for yourself. The lines are from "Surprise" and "Becoming II", from the Second season. Another BtVS thing is the Hell that one character goes to. Joss Whedon, who also owns the Fyarrl demon tormenting that particular character, created the Hell for the Buffy series. Everything Middle Earth-y is Tolkien's, everything National Treasure-y is… er… Who owns National Treasure, anyways? It doesn't belong to me. Silence does though, as does Mariah.**_

_**Balrog: Windbag. This is supposed to be a LOTR/NT crossover, not a LOTR/NT/BtVS crossover!**_

_**Celebwen: This is not a LOTR/NT/BtVS crossover! They're just lines! And a Hell dimention! Silence says the "Surprise" line, and Silence and Ian both say the "Becoming II" lines!**_

**_Balrog: (groans) Bye. This is a waste of time._**

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Excuse me?**_

_**Tarichar: (Hisses at Celebwen and saunters off.)**_

_**Celebwen: Tarichar! Watch your language! And by the way, thanks, Elenhin for being such a great Beta!**_

The helicopter lowered to the deserted town square, the whine of the engines drowning out the masses fleeing from the Naples area. The golden-haired woman Riley once thought was God, now known to be Galadriel, bearer of the Ring of Adamant, descended from the chopper, ever graceful. Her grandsons, Elladan and Elrohir, followed, as did Glorfindel, and Riley followed, tripping on the helicopter's threshold and nearly sprawling himself face first in the church's courtyard as Elrond fluidly leapt from the pilot's seat.

Cars streamed from the cities and the airlines were full. A mass evacuation was obviously underway from the cities surrounding Vesuvius; apparently the Italian government hadn't thinned the populous enough to keep a huge traffic jam (and cars driving on both sides of the roads and beside the roads) from being created with their cash incentives to move.

"What's going on?" Riley asked, staring at the cars clogging the freeway like cholesterol in an overweight person's arteries.

"Vesuvius' magma chamber has been filling from its last major eruption, in 1944, and thus the pressure created by the increasing viscous molten rock is putting a strain on the basalt blocking the volcano's main vent," Elrohir said, sounding like a page out of a geology textbook.

"Huh?" Riley asked, playing with his semi-melted lump of vaguely circular gold metal.

"The volcano's about to erupt," Elladan translated.

"The-the-Could you repeat that?"

"The volcano's about to erupt. Would you like me to write it down?" Elladan asked contemptuously.

"Uh… no. But shouldn't we… uh… be headed… uh… that way?" Riley asked, pointing away from the volcano.

"U, yrchion." _(No, son-of-orcs)_

"Elladan! Hen le pedo!" _(Elladan! Watch you language)_Glorfindel snapped, swatting the Elf-twin upside the head.

"Adar!" _(Father!)_ the abused Elf whined. Elrond ignored him.

"Met-uva raen I vilya-pata," _(We will wander the sky-way)_ Elrond said, re-entering the helicopter.

"Would it be too hard to speak English?" Riley asked, exasperated.

"Cait-u, yrchion-gondol," _(Not to lie, stoneheaded son-of-orcs)_ Elladan said, smirking. Glorfindel sighed.

"Hen le pedo, Peredhel," _(Watch your language, Half-Elven)_ the Gondolin Elf grumbled. "If you wish to insult him by calling him a stoneheaded son-of-orcs, then say that to his face instead of insulting him in a tongue he does not understand," Glorfindel said in English.

"Hey!" Riley cried, insulted. Elladan smirked, and entered the helicopter, followed by Glorfindel, who was apparently going to play mediator between the two.

"A le a hinith-adan, Elladan?"_(Are you a child of Men, Elladan?)_Elrohir asked his twin, who stuck his tongue out at him. Glorfindel rolled his eyes in exasperation as the chopper began to rise with the whining of the engine.

Below them, the ground rippled as a quake struck. A ringing explosion was heard, and Riley, terrified beyond actions, shrank against his seat. Elladan snorted contemptuously, and Galadriel glared at her grandson, apparently irritated.

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Elrond cursed as he saw that the volcano was erupting. Maybe they should have chosen Mt. Aetna instead of Vesuvius, since the latter was now very valiantly attempting to recreate it's A.D. 79 disaster.

Smoke, pyroclasts and flying rocks wouldn't do much to melt the Ring, since Orodruin wasn't hot enough to do any more than misshape it. But it may be, if the immense weight of the evil thing bore it down the bowels of the magma chamber.

"**Get ready!" **he called in Elvish. Elrohir opened the door as Elrond flew perilously close to the eruption. Riley screeched in panic, and Elrond got as close as he dared. "Riley, now! Throw it in the fire!"

"No!"

"**Men! Damn them all to the lowest of Morgoth's realm! Useless idiots!"** Elrond grumbled in Elvish, recalling how close in actions Isildur was to Riley. Elladan snickered. "Now!" the ancient Elf-lord roared at the stubborn human, who squealed and refused again. "Elrohir?" Elrond called. Elrohir gripped Riley's arm, and held the hand that held the Ring out of the open door.

"What are you doing!" Riley cried in a panic. Elrohir grabbed a long knife and swiftly sliced Riley's hand off of his arm, effectively severing the contact the Ring had with its bearer.

"**The chopper's engine is going to fill with ash!"**Elladan cried as Elrond turned the helicopter. Elrohir closed the door with a grateful sigh and Elrond pushed the vehicle to its fastest. Below them, there was a colossal explosion as a new vent opened. Viscous magma poured from the hole, skyrocketing.

"**Men,"** Elrond grumbled as Riley continued to shriek over his lost appendage. **"Make sure to tie off the arteries and veins, then wrap his arm in sanitized cloth. Give him a good blanket, we need to keep the idiot from going into shock."**

"**We are your sons, Father," **Elladan replied, a grin in his voice. A feeling of being dominated over slowly vanished from Elrond. He glanced at the now-merely-decorative Vilya, the Blue Ring of the Elves, and heard his mother-in-law's sigh of relief. The One Ring was gone, hopefully forever this time. Men couldn't afford another rerun of Sauron's attempt at power. They would fail.

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The president of the United States had been very sure of his success as president. He stood, and then a blinding flash of pain shot from his heart through his entire body. He fell, struggling to breathe as his secretaries and security ran about in a panic. Like a landed fish, he gasped for air, then fell to his side and curled up in a fetal position as agony racked his body, every nerve ending on fire.

Then there was nothing, save pure darkness.

Slowly, firelight lit the area. He was chained to a wall, an uruk-hai like creature with horns, a square jaw and grayish skin with a whip before him. He struggled, to no avail, as the whip-demon raise his weapon and struck it across Sauron's chest.

The pain was unbelievable. It was like pure fire racing across his flesh, leaving raw wounds into which were pored raw acid. Sauron screamed, loudly, adding to the horrendous din of demons and humans in chains.

"Get a move on there!" a demon snarled in Orcish. A whip was brought down, and a woman screamed then whimpered. "Move, or I'll give you something to scream about!" Chains rattled as prisoners staggered across the area.

"Mercy, please!" someone whimpered. He was met with a whip. Sauron would love this place, if it had not been that he was chained to the wall and being tormented.

"Do you like it here?" his horned captor asked.

"Eh…" Sauron couldn't speak more than that from the pain.

"Good! Welcome, Sauron, Maia of Aulë and Morgoth, to Hell. I hope you like your stay!" The lash fell.

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It was relatively warm for the beginning of October. Silence lay on the platform, slowly drifting out of conscious thought into dreamland.

_It was cold, too cold to even think. Silence rubbed her bulging abdomen through the think robes of state and multiple petticoats and waistcoats, glad for the warmth they offered. She tried to sign her name of the food distribution document, but found that the ink had frozen in the pen. She held it in the water heater to thaw it, and then signed her name quickly, before the ink re-froze. _

_Ian came up, his dark robes and thick slippers muffling his footsteps. _

"_Isn't this supposed to be summer?" he asked her. _

"_It's the first summer after the big eruption. This is summer, and winter will be –" An aging Laura was cut off by Silence._

"_Brutal. Positively brutal." _

Silence sat up on the dock, the cool night air and the light breeze very welcome after the icy cold of the post-Yellowstone summer.

A dream. It had all been a dream, even her being married to Ian-why?- and being the Queen of Gondor and Arnor, Uncle Derek the King of Dale and his wife, Mariah, Queen of Rohan.

"Len?" Derek called softly over the sounds of Phil and Gregor's snores, and oddly enough Sulin's, though how a horse could snore was well beyond her.

"I'm awake," she stage-whispered back.

"You alright?"

"Well enough. My dreams have been odd of late."

"We do have the blood of the Evenstar and of Numenor flowing in us. They could very well be prophetic. What was your dream?" Silence shuddered, not wanting to think of the icy cold summer.

"It was cold, cold enough to freeze the marrow in your bones. I was pregnant, married to Ian, and the Queen of Gondor while you were the King of Dale, Mariah was the Queen of Rohan, Ian was the Steward of Gondor, and Mother was holding Annuminas for me."

"It could very well be prophetic," Derek repeated. "What else did you dream?"

"That-er-you and I opened an office supply warehouse in Las Vegas Nevada."

"That one probably isn't prophetic," Derek chuckled. "Me, in an office supply warehouse? It's a nightmare."

"I agree. But the first one? It was in summer. Summer!"

"Don't worry so much about it, Silence. If it does happen then it will, and there's nothing we can do about it. Sometimes these things take skewed perceptions of things."

"Sauron was controlling the Palantir that Denethor was using to scry Sauron's actions," Silence pointed out. Derek smiled.

"I know, Silence," he said softly. "But Sauron, we don't even know if he's around anymore."

"But if he is—"

"You're overreacting. If he is, we'll deal. We've always dealt. We're Bardred, for Illuvitar's sake, Dinnen! The Heirs of Bard. Mariah is the Heir to the Throne of Rohan, while you could contest for the Throne of Gondor itself."

"So parts of my dream really are true."

"Some, such as the lines of ascension. If you do become the Queen of Gondor, then Ian would indeed become the Steward, for lack of another possible candidate. He is directly descended from Barahir III, the last Steward of Gondor."

"I see. And you would automatically become the King of Dale?"

"And Eryn Lasgalen by default. I hate the thought; I'd make a horrible King."

"Nonsense!" Ian called. "You'd make a fine ruler!" Derek sighed.

"You wish," Derek called back. Ian laughed. "Go to sleep, you'll need it," Derek's voice was less than happy about the dream and possible future.

"See what I mean? You're ten times better a leader than me!" Ian called. But they all pulled out their pallets and curled up to go to sleep.

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The horses were panicking, and Ina was trying to rouse Silence.

"Wh-what?" she asked groggily.

"Something's happening."

"A man Eru!" Mariah gasped. "I uruloki, i uruloki!" _(Oh good God! The dragon, the dragon!) _

"What!" Ben cried, scrambling up. "What the Hell—oh God." He promptly passed out.

Silence turned and saw the great green-and-gold dragon racing for her.

_The dock faded out to a church. The pews were shaken when the door came crashing down as well as the entire front wall. A small dragon stood there, his nostrils and eyes lethally red against the black beady hide. Patrick grabbed a gun from someone, and shoved everyone towards the boiler room. He brandished the gun, and fired, hitting the dragon's eye, but only enraging it. The beast spat fire a Patrick, searing his left side. Patrick yelled and fired again, completely infuriating the dragon. It opened its mouth to breathe flame again, and Patrick fired multiple times into the yawning cavern. The beast thrashed, belching fire everywhere and finally died, leaving Patrick with third-degree burns over his entire body._

Suddenly, Derek lifted her up and carried her to the dock's edge, throwing both her and himself into the water.

The cold water shocked her into wakefulness as she followed her uncle down and under the dock to an air pocket meant to buoy the raft. Ten full minutes later, the dock swelled with the leaping waves, and the water became almost too hot to bear, due to the now-dead dragon's body heat cooling down. Silence and her uncle swam back to the dock and Victor and Gregor helped them, Phil, Ian, Ben and Mariah up to the dock. Tarichar wound about Silence's ankles, before Silence hoisted the cat onto her shoulder and going to Ian. She gently brushed his hair from his eyes, gazing into their grey-green depths. "Ian, I-I remember. I remember everything!" She gently touched his shoulder, snaking an arm about his neck.

"Silence?" he asked. Tarichar purred.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in months. It was the dragon that gave me my memories back."

"I love you," he murmured, stroking her cheek.

"I love you," she said back, before kissing him soundly.

"Silence!" Ben cried, apparently irritated.

"Ben, let them be," Gregor snapped in reply.

"But-I-that's my sister!"

"So? You don't own her!" Derek growled at him. "come on, we need to get to Eryn Lasgalen with the information from Silence's dream."

"What about the treasure?" Ben asked in his whiny voice.

"No time," Mariah replied tersely. "It'll keep a bit longer. Let's go. Ian, Silence? Let's go!" Everyone got into the ferry and rowed back to shore, Gregor and Victor coiling up their bowstrings.

"Are you sure the dragon is dead?" Derek called to the two men.

"Positive. Gregor's arrow hit a soft spot in the left side of the chest. It roared and fell to the water. We were afraid you'd been boiled to death because of the heat!"

"It was close. I'm glad it's dead. Now let's go." Derek pulled his oar again, sending the raft closer to the sore.

"Just like Smaug," Victor commented.

"Just no Black Arrow," Gregor replied. Victor smiled grimly. "And the dragon dead means only no menace up here. Only one in the South." He lifted a paddle and began to help guide the raft to the shore. Away to the West, the sun was setting, painting the sky an ominous scarlet.

_**Celebwen Telcontar: How was that? **_

_**Balrog: (Looks bored.)**_

_**Tarichar: (Hisses at Balrog.)**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Ahh, why do I bother? I know, because I like to bother with this! Please review, people!**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Sorry! I shouldn't have left the lot of you hanging the way I did.**_

_**Balrog: (Yawns, grumbles, and rolls over in his bed of pegmatite and granite)**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Should I dump a bucket of rock flour over his head to wake him up?**_

_**Tarichar: (Stares boredly at Celebwen Telcontar, snorts slightly, and saunters off)**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Huh. Just like a cat. Anyways, this is not mine; neither are Galadriel, the Elven twins, Elrond, Glorfindel, Ben, Abigail, Riley, Derek,… You get the point. I own Silence, Patrick, Mariah, the animals, the Bardréd—**_

_**Balrog: I wanna eat the pony!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: (Stares at Balrog strangely) Uhhh… yah. I don't own him either. Tolkien does. Review people!**_

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The clangs and crashes announced that the party was coming up on either a true fight or a practice spar. Sulin snorted and balked, then went foreword after a person was flung into a tree.

"_Hey! Elladan!"_ a voice cried in Sindarin. Silence's eyebrows went up.

"Elladan?" she asked her uncle, who shrugged. Tarichar meowed softly from the treetops, and then yowled as a knife streaked past the leaves, nearly clipping her whiskers. She hissed at the culprit.

"_Elrohir, you need to stay light on your feet!"_ a more commanding male voice called.

"_War is on its way; do not be dawdling!" _The woman's voice was like water, cool and calming.

"I think we may have stumbled upon some faeries," Ben said softly. Tarichar hissed at him, apparently annoyed.

"_Elves, Stonehead,"_ Silence snapped, slapping him upside the head. The young man winced away from the blow, and then glared at his twin, who grinned back. Sulin snorted again, pawing the earth. _"Easy, Windsong."_

"_Men, Men who speak the Elven tongues, are near," _the woman's voice said.

"Galadriel…" Derek whispered in awe. The radiant Elven queen stepped into the forest, her face making Silence look like a horrendous monster comparatively. Tarichar leapt down and sat at her feet, looking up into her face. The most powerful Elf in the Third Age stared back down at the temperamental feline, and then reached down to gently pet Tarichar.

"_She has a good name, Heir of Dúnedain."_ Galadriel's voice was powerful and beyond description. It felt like water was rushing down Silence's spine when she heard the powerful Elven queen speak.

"_My Lady. I thank you,"_ For lack of anything else to say, Silence bowed low.

"_You need not bow to me, for soon you shall hold the title Queen of Men."_

"_Then whom shall my people look to as my King?"_

"_Look to your Steward."_

"_My Steward?"_

"_The last Heir of the Line of Anárion. Child, come with me." _Galadriel walked off into a different area of the forest, and Silence followed, feeling as though she were in a waking dream. They halted in a clearing. _"Silence, child of the Dúnedain, Heir to Elessar. You will hold the White Rod when the time comes. Men will look to you and your Steward as their monarchs. Are you aware of this, child?"_

"_I am, My Lady. I must ask, though, what of my twin?"_

"_The child of Men? He is not of the Dúnedain; his blood is as impure as that of the mule to the Mearas. He is well where he is, as an amusing child of Men. You have the Old Blood. Use it. I wish to give you a gift, this will be of great use to you. The Bardréd do not keep the only Far-Seer left in this world. The Far-Seer of the Tower of Ecthellion has been cleansed of Sauron's taint." _Galadriel handed Silence a head-sized bundle that was a lot heavier than it looked. Wrapped in translucent white cloth, it seemed to give off an air of peace and power.

"_Again, I thank you, My Lady."_

"_Keep the lands clean. The volcano will clean the world; restore the old Kingdoms, and keep the people as citizens of Arda. That is the only gratitude I will accept."_

"_It shall be done, My Lady."_

"_This is now yours, Princess."_ Galadriel took a brooch from within the folds of her dress and pinned the eagle-shaped clasp with a green stone to the Bardréd's cloak. _"You shall make the Elves proud to be your ancestors."_ With that, Galadriel left the glen, and Silence followed in a stupor until Sulin nudged her.

"I… I have the blessings of the Elves," she whispered to her uncle and her horse. Her brother snorted in confusion.

"Why do you need the blessing of a group of faeries?"

"Elves, moron," Phil snapped.

"We need to get into the palace," Derek said. "What's that?" He motioned to the bundle Silence carried.

"A Palantir, I think."

"It's a little too small to be a planet, don't you think?" Ben asked. Silence slapped him upside the head from habit.

"_I agree with Galadriel," Silence_ said to her uncle._ "He is nothing more than an amusing child of Men."_

"'_Men' is right,"_ Derek snorted. Mariah chuckled.

"_Indeed. I have a nasty migraine from dealing with this idiot."_

"Hey," a familiar voice called. Silence looked for the source, and saw Riley Poole, Ben's old friend, his hair longer than she remembered, and his right hand in his pocket.

"Riley!" Ben cried in welcome and happiness. Riley took out his hand to show Ben, and Silence saw that his hand had been severed off at the wrist. He had small stitches on his stump, and looked as though it had been surgically removed. Or sliced off quickly and healed by one of the Elven healers. "What happened!" Ben cried.

"I was caught by the Ring's seduction. I refused to throw the Ring into some volcano or other, and one of the Elf-twins over there cut my hand off in order to get the Ring into the volcano."

"You've matured quite a bit," Silence said quietly.

"I'm changing my profession. If being a servant of God feels like being near Her Royal Majesty, then I will change to being a Priest."

"_Imagine, Riley Poole, idiot extraordinaire, being effected by the Lady Galadriel's charms,"_ Mariah said in Sindarin. Derek had to smother a laugh.

"Gaaaa! Rhooooothhhsaaah!" a young voice cried. Abigail came careening over, holding her son high above her head.

"Abigail! Patrick!" Ben cried, running over to kiss his girlfriend and hold his son. One of the Elf-twins looked at the three of them, a conspiratorial look on his face.

"_Elladan, don't even think about it," _the older Elf called. Elladan deflated quickly. The blonde Elf-lord walked through the glen, contemplating life from his expression.

"_Well-met, daughter of Elessar," _he said, his hand on his chest as he bowed. He then walked up to Sulin, and began whispering to her, stroking her mane. Tarichar leapt onto Sulin's back and rubbed against the Elf-lord's hand, looking for attention. Silence was floored; this wasn't supposed to happen! But then again, Tarichar was a very good judge of character, save when she attacked Ben. For some reason, she seemed to think he was the ultimate incarnation of evil, and that spread to Riley and Abigail as well. Silence just hoped that Tarichar didn't take it all the way to Patrick; she couldn't deal with Ben trying to murder her cat because of a misunderstanding. _"You have a lovely pair of friends, Silence daughter of the Nùmenorians." _He scratched beneath Tarichar's chin, and the gold and black marbled cat purred loudly, closing her eyes in bliss. Ian stared at the Elf and cat.

"Doesn't she hate most people?"

"And she thinks you're her kitten," Derek said, glancing at Ian.

"_She believes that the Heir of Faramir is her child?"_ the Elf-lord asked.

"_She does. I even caught her feeding him once."_

"_She fed Ian?"_ Silence asked, struggling to keep herself from laughing. The Elf-lord looked at Derek with and unfathomable expression on his face.

"_We need to create a council of what we will do when the volcano erupts," _the dark-haired Elf-lord said.

"_My Lord Elrond," _the blonde Elf-lord said quietly._ "This is no longer our world."_

"_Glorfindel, if the Gondorian monarchy is not reinstated here, it will create repercussions of the last kind we need. Besides, if the volcano does not erupt, it will not heal what Men have done to this Middle-Earth, and the pollution will come to Valinor, and we will have to deal with it as well." _Glorfindel nodded, then looked at the returned travelers, smiled slightly, and beckoned. Silence was stunned for the second time that day: first she had been advised and accepted by Galadriel, the bearer of Nenya the Ring of Water, now she was in conversation with Elrond, the bearer of Vilya the Ring of Air, Glorfindel the Balrog-slayer, and the highly mischievous twins Elladan and Elrohir, who, judging by Riley's reaction, Elladan was the incarnation of annoyance.

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Laura, Queen of the Bardréd, sighed and signed her name on yet another document. The door opened.

"Your Highness," Sarah, her secretary, said. "The travelers have returned."

"Thank you for informing me, Sarah, and make an appointment for them to hold a meeting with me."

"We also have visitors. I would wish you to see them at once, as they are Galadriel, Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan and Glorfindel."

"Why did you make them wait so long to see me!" Laura cried in a near panic. She looked to her Palantir, and saw that though the instrument was dark, it was not specifically hiding something. It was just dark with the future: ash covering the land from the Yellowstone eruption.

"The re-initiation of your daughter into Bardréd society, the return of the travelers, and the warning of the eruption of the Yellowstone volcano, not to mention the fact that we are getting ready for the return of the Dúnedain to the thrones of Gondor, Rohan, Arnor, Eriador, Erebor, and similar Kingdoms throughout the world. Add that to wondering _how_ to let the current world leaders know, and get it through their thick skulls, that a book they consider to be fictional is in fact a fully authorized account of the travels of an elderly Hobbit and the saving of this world by that selfsame Hobbit's cousin. The fact that there were _living_ members of the oldest known race of sentient beings to still walk this Earth in our courtyard perhaps was set back against all of that."

"How about the most powerful person, discounting the Maia, in the Third Age, just shy of Sauron himself, and her son-in-law, who just so happens to be the second-most powerful being shy of Sauron in the Third Age, again discounting the Maia, grandsons, and the killer of one of the most infamous creatures ever created _being in our courtyard?_" Laura said in a dangerously calm voice, save the last four words, which were hissed in near-fury. Sarah by now had paled considerably, her eyes wide. "Show them in. And tell Rachel that she now is my personal secretary." Sarah hung her head, realizing that she had been fired. She then showed the five mighty Elves into the Royal Study.

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Legolas was ready to bang his head on the desk, if that would help. The Vice-President, now the President, of the United States of America was going to be doing massive tax cuts, taking the money needed to keep the infrastructure going from the art and music programs in the high schools, and also cutting funding from certain sciences, including geology, thus making it nearly impossible to get warnings for the Yellowstone eruption to the populous until it was _far_ too late. And now FEMA was going to be disbanded because of low response time to the recent hurricane that smashed through Atlanta and demolished several old monuments left over from just after Sherman's slash-and-burn Civil War special. Mithrandir came up, his garments making Legolas smile. A black and white Mickey Mouse t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans along with a pair of dilapidated tennis shoes was definentally not what the Maiar was usually dressed in. "We need to get to the Bardréd, and soon. If we do not find shelter, we will not survive the eruption," Mithrandir said calmly. "Cloudsprinter is ready to go, he's groomed well, as is Arod the two-thousand and twelfth."

"Good, all of our possessions are packed up and ready to load," Legolas stated before looking up at his superior.

"We should leave within the day."

"I'll get the tickets," Legolas said, spinning in his chair to face the computer and go onto a travel agency for the cheapest tickets at the soonest time, which just happened to leave within the day. Add the two horses, even with the small amount of luggage that they took, and it was not a cheap bill.

"Money won't matter for long," Mithrandir said, grabbing a duffel bag as Legolas stuffed his credit card back into his wallet and wheeling out a suitcase, a duffel bag in his free hand. Even as a Maiar and an Elf, the Yellowstone eruption would not be a good thing to witness in North America.

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_**Celebwen Telcontar: The eruption grows closer… and closer… (Dramatic music plays)**_

_**Balrog: Yippee! (Rubs hands together in glee) I just love volcanic eruptions! Where's the "Jaws" music coming from?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Uhhh… I really don't know. Anyways, that's my Balrog. He always has loved death and destruction.**_

**_Balrog:… You said that Glorfindel was there? In Bardréd lands!_**

_**Celebwen Telcontar: He is.**_

_**Balrog: That's it. I quit. I'm speaking to Jim Henson productions about a transfer to a Labyrinth set. Or maybe I'll transfer to being in the Fire Swamp in Princess Bride. (Hands in resignation) **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I—Balrog. You can't do this! I need you as my disclaimer partner! Balrog! BALROG! Please, come back! Oh no. I've driven my disclaimer partner off… Help. Glorfindel, you're fired!**_

_**Glorfindel: What? I'm not yours to begin with! You can't fire me!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I give up. I'm getting a new disclaimer partner. Tarichar, do you want to file for the position? I'm accepting applications! **_

_**Tarichar: (Hisses and saunters off)**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Great. Just my luck. Glorfindel, you want to fill out an application?**_

_**Glorfindel: No, thank you. **_


End file.
